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FROM THE LIBRARY OF 



REV. LOUIS FITZGERALD BENSON, D. D. 



BEQUEATHED BY HIM TO 



THE LIBRARY OF 



PRINCETON THEOLOGICAL SEMINARY 



8* 535/ 



... 



/ / 



SOLDIER 
-f SONGS 




Digitized by the Internet Archive 

in 2012 with funding from 

Princeton Theological Seminary Library 



http://archive.org/details/soldiersonOOcarp 







SOLDIER iWfflgQ 



H IRcw flMlitarg Sono JSooft 



CONTAINING 

THE LATEST POPULAR SONGS 

ADDED TO 
THE COLLECTION EDITED BY 

J. E. CARPENTER 



11 God save our gracious Queen, 

Long live our noble Queen, 

God save the Queen!" 



LONDON 

FREDERICK WARNE & CO. 

AND NEW YORK 



CONT E N T S. 



TITLE PUBLISHER PAGE 

A British Soldier is my Dad . ... ... 97 

A Knapsack and a Cheerful Heait Cramer Sc Co. . 1 

All's Well ... ir 

A Soldier, a Soldier for me . ... ... 82 

A Soldier's Gratitude . . ... ... 3 

Bannockhlrn .... Matheson . . 85 

Bowld General Hoolf . . ... ... 106 

Hoys, have vou heard of the) 

; Battle .....; 48 

Britain and France . . . J.Williams . 114 

CHEER, Boys, Cheer . . . Chappell & Co. 35 

Come if you dare . . . Novello & Co. . 25 

Come, all ye Gem'men Volunteers Do. . 36 

Courage Cramer & Co. . 32 

Courage, Hearts of England . ... ... 86 

1 >arby Kelly . . . .... ... 103 

Deil tak' the Wars . . . Cramer & Co. . 23 

Defence, but not Defiance . . ... ... 76 

Does haughty Gaul Invasion) fi 

threat? .j - - 0I 

Draw the Sword, Scotland . . ... ... 57 



England's Volunteers ... 33 



Frederick's Address to his} 

Army . 
Friend of the Brave . . . Cramer & Co. . 5 



God Defend the Right ... 20 

God Save the Queen ... 132 

Go, my own Darling Boy . . Willis & Co. . 100 



VI 



' 



TITLE 

HOHENLINDEN . 

II ist high the Flag . 
Honour to the Brave . 

I'm going for a Soldier, Jenny 

LAMENT for Abercromb . 
Love and Glory . 

Love and War . 



PUBLISHER 



Novello & Co. 
Do. 



Madam, you know my Trade 

War .... 
Magnanimity 

March of the Men of Harlech 
Might I march through Life again Cramer & Cc. 
Minden's Plains of Glory . 
Mother, can this the Glory be 
Mother, is the Battle over ? 
Mourn for the Mighty Dead 
My Father's Sword 
M\ Beau in the Rifle Brigade 



Napoleon's Midnight Review 
Not a Drum was heard 



Oil ! give me but my Arab Steed Chap pell & Co. 39 

Oh, let me like a Soldier Fall . Cramer & Co. . 38 

O, Vive l'Amour ! . . . ... ... 37 

Once a Soldier, always a Soldier - Hunter ^ 1J1 



Cramer & Co. 



Augener & Co. 
R. Cocks & Co. 
Willi., & Co. 
Turner 



fags 
34 



5° 



77 

5 

*3 

87 

44 
60 

56 
107 

79 

19 

119 

ioi 



Cramer & Co. . 
G. Metzler&Co. 



67 

9 



Pibroch of Donuil Dim 
Poor Joe the Marii 1 
Private Tommy At) 

Riflemen Form 

Rest, \\ ' . 

wha hae . 

• ( Conquering 1 I> n 1 

Soldiers of tin' (, ; 

Stand by the Flag 



64 

16 
Wilcocks & Co. 123 






•I 1 
61 



15 

4 



Day A 1 

1 Hunter ' . | 
46 



Contents. 



vn 



TITLE 

The Affectionate Soldier . 

The Army and Navy . 

The Army and Navy of Britaii 

for ever 
The Banner of Britain 
The Banners of Blue . 
The Battle of Corunna 
The Battle of Vittoria 
The Battle of Waterloo 
The Battle is Fought . 
The Battles of Sebastopol . 
The Bowld Sojer Boy . 
The British Grenadiers 
The British Light Brigade . 
The Charge of the Light Brigad 
The Dashing White Sergeant 
The Death of Wellington . 
The Death of Wellington . 
The Death of Wolfe . 
The Deathless Army . 
The Dying Soldier's Prayer 
The Faithful Camp Butcher 
The Gentlemen of the Army 
The Girl I left behind me . 
The Grave at the Alma 
The Guardsman's Return . 
The Hussar's Parting . 
The Last Words of Marmion 
The Merry Little Soldier . 
The Muffled Drum . 
The Minstrel Boy 
The Nightingale's Song 
The Officer's Funeral . 
The Old Brigade 
The Old Soldier's Daughter 
The Onset — a Battle Song . 
The Soldier 

The Soldier and the Volunteer 
The Soldier Boy . 
The Soldier to his Sword . 
The Soldier's Battle . 
The Soldier's Dream . 
The Soldier's Funeral 
The Soldier's Life 



PUBLISHER 



J. Williams 



PAGE 

93 
73 
98 



17 



Novello & Co. . 89 

92 

Illus. Lon. News 112 

"5 

61 

55 

124 

B. Williams . 69 
Blockley . . 108 
8 
J. Williams . 104 
no 
G. Metzler & Co. 107 
Boosey & Co. . 122 
G. Metzler & Co. 41 
Novello & Co. . 99 

53 

128 
80 

118 
5i 
14 
16 

117 

3° 

43 

4 

125 
28 
84 

114 
59 
33 
65 
75 
6 
20 
27 



Boosey & Co, 



Willis & Co. 



Chappell & Co. 
Reynolds & Co. 



Cramer ft Co. 

Mills. 
Do. 
Do. 



viii Confenfa 

TITLE PUBLISHER PACK 

The Soldier's Love . . . Mills . . 58 

The Soldier's Love . . . Do. . . 24 

The Soldier's Last Sigh . . ... ... 40 

The Soldier's Orphan Boy ... 88 

The Soldier's Parting . . . ... ... 91 

The Soldier's Return . . . ... ... 95 

The Soldier's Tear ...... ... 13 

The Soldier's Wife . . . ... ... 37 

The Soldier's Wife ...... ... 39 

The Song of War ... 66 

The Song of the Battle ... 91 

The Son of a Soldier . . . ... ... in 

The Tired Soldier ... 21 

The Two Barrels . . . ... ... 83 

The Trumpets' Sound . . Novello & Co. . iio 

The Union Jack . . . Wilcocks & Co. 130 

The Veteran . . . . ... ... 42 

The Veteran's Son . . . G. Metzler & Co. 18 

The White Cockade ... 68 

The Young Recruit . . . R. Cocks & Co. 22 

They Say the French are Coming ... ... 29 

Three Cheers for our Soldiers) n TXrii: 

Abroad . . . .1 ''• * ,lllams • « 

To the Front .... Boosey & Co. . 131 

'Twas the Day of the Feast . ... ... 26 

Upon the Plains of Flanders . Cramer & Co. . 7 

Viva Victoria . . . . Jefferys . . 31 

Vive le Tricolor ... 11 1 

War Song (1804) ... 70 

Wave the Banner, Wield the 1 

Sword I T19 

Weep Not for the Fallen Brave . 

What shall the Soldier's Watch- I 
word be? . . .1 

What Will they Say in England? Chappell & ( '<>. 

Who Carries the* Gun ? . . Boosey & Co. . 126 

With a Helmet on his Bro^ . ... ... 40 

Yes ! We cry " To Ann ' " . k. !o. 105 



SOLDIER SONGS. 



A KNAPSACK AND A CHEERFUL 
HEART. 

Anonymous.] [^' /r > " y°h'h come & ss me now 

We soldiers drink, we soldiers sing, 
We fight our foes, and love our king ; 
While all our wealth two words impart, 
A knapsack and a cheerful heart. 

While the merry, merry fife and drum 

Bid intruding care be dumb, 

Sprightly still we sing and play, 

And make dull life a holiday. 

Though we march, or though we halt, 
Or though the enemy we assault ; 
Though we're cold, or though we're warm, 
Or though the sleeping town we storm, 
Still the merry, merry fife and drum, &c> 

Are lasses kind, or arc they shy, 
Or do they pout they know not why ? 
While full the knapsack, light the heart, 
Content we meet, content we part. 

For the merry, merry fife and drum, &c 



The New Military Song Book. 

We sigh not for the toils of state ; 
We ask not of the rich or great ; 
For, be we rich, or be we poor, 
Are purses full, or duns at door, 
Still the merry, merry fife and drum, &c. 

Thus we drink, and thus we sing ; 
We beat our foes, and love our king; 
While all our wealth two words impart, 
A knapsaek and a cheerful heart. 

For the merry, merry fife and drum 

Bid intruding care be dumb ; 

Sprightly still we sing and play, 

And make dull life a holiday, 



WHAT WILL THEY SAY I\ 
ENGLAND. 

Rev. J. B. Monsell.] [Music by J. W. Hobbs. 

What will they say in England, 

When there the story's told 
Of deeds of might, on Alma's height, 

Done by the brave and bold ? 
Of Russia, proud at noontide, 

Humbled ere set of sun ? — 
They'll say 'twas like old England, 

They'll say 'twas nobly done ! 

What will they say in England, 
When, hush'd in awe and dread, 

Fond hearts through all our happy bonus 

Think of the mighty dead 
And muse in speeehless anguish 

On father, brother, son ? 
They'll say in dear old England, 

God's holy will be done ! 



The New Military Song Book. 3 

What will they say in England, 

The matron and the maid, 
Whose widow'd, wither'd hearts have found 

The price that each has paid — 
The gladness that their homes have lost, 

For all the glory won ? — 
They'll say, in Christian England, 

God's holy will be done ! 

What will they say in England? 

Our names, both night and day, 
Are mi their hearts, and on their lips, 

When they laugh, or weep, or pray; 
They watch on earth — they plead with Heaven, 

Then forward to the fight ! 
Who droops or fears, when England cheers, 

And God defends the right ? 



A SOLDIERS GRATITUDE. 

I. Pocock.] [Music by Arne. 

Whate'er my fate, where'er I roam, 

By sorrow still oppressed, 
I'll ne'er forget the peaceful home 

That gave a wand'rer rest. 
Then ever rose life's sunny banks, 

By sweetest fiow'rets strewed ; 
Still may you claim a soldier's thanks, 

A soldier's gratitude ! 

The tender sigh, the balmy tear, 

That meek-eyed Pity gave, 
My last expiring hour shall cheer, 

And bless the wand'rer's grave ! 

Then ever rove, &c. 



The New Military Song Booh. 

SEE THE CONQUERING HERO 
COMES. 

(Fiom the Oratorio of "Judas Maccabaeub.' 1 ) 
[Music by Handel.] 
See the conquering hero comes, 
Sound the trumpet, beat the drums ; 
Sports prepare, the laurel bring, 
Songs of triumph to him sing. 

See the godlike youth advance, 
Breathe the flutes and lead the dance, 
Myrtle wreaths and roses twine, 
To deck the hero's brow divine. 



THE OFFICER'S FUNERAL. 

.. .. XT , \ Music by the Hon. 

Hon. Mrs. Norton.] j Mrs / Norton . 

Hark ! to the shrill trumpet calling, 

It pierceth the soft summer air; 
Tears from each comrade are falling, 

For the widow and orphan are there ! 
The bayonets earthward are turning, 

And the drum's muffled breath rolls around; 
But he hears not the voice of their mourning, 

Nor awakes to the bugle's sound. 

Sleep, soldier ! though many regret thee, 

Who stand by the cold bier to-day, 
Soon shall the kindest forget thee, 

And thy name from the earth pass away. 
The man thou didst love as a brother, 

A friend in thy place will have gained, 
Thy dog shall keep watch for another, 

And thy Steed by a stranger be reined. 



The New Military Song Booh. 5 

But though hearts that now mourn for thee sadly, 

Soon joyous as ever shall be ; 
Though thy bright orphan boy may laugh gladly, 

As he sits on some comrade's knee, 
There is one who shall still pay the duty 

Of tears for the true and the brave, 
As when first, in the bloom of her beauty, 

She wept o'er her soldier's grave. 



FRIEND OF THE BRAVE. 

Anonymous.] [Music by Dr. Callcott. 

RECITATIVE. 

Friend of the brave ! in peril's darkest hour, 
Intrepid virtue looks to thee for power ; 
To thee the heart its trembling homage yields, 
On stormy floods and carnage-covered fields ; 
When front to front the banner'd hosts combine, 
Halt, ere they close, and form the dreadful line. 

AIR. 

When all is still on death's devoted soil 
The march-worn soldier mingles with the toil, 
As rings the glittering tube, he lifts on high 
The dauntless brow and spirit-speaking eye, 
Hails in his heart the triumph yet to come, 
And hears thy stormy music in the drum. 



LOVE AM) GLORY. 

T. Dibdin.] [Music by J. Braham, 

Young Henry was as brave a youth 

As ever graced a martial story ; 
And Jane was fair as lovely truth, 
She sighed for love, and he for glory. 



The New Military Song Book, 

With her his faith he meant to plight, 
And told her many a gallant story ; 

Till war, their honest joys to blight, 
Call'd him away from love to glory. 

Brave Henry met the foe with pride, 

Jane followed — fought, ah, hapless story ! 

In man's attire, by Henry's side, 
She died for love, and he for glory. 



THE SOLDIERS DREAM. 

T. Campbell.] [Music by T. AttvYood. 

Our bugles sang truce, for the night-cloud had 
lower 'd, 

And the sentinel-stars set their watch in the sky, 
And thousands had sunk on the ground overpower Vi, 

The weary to sleep, and the wounded to die. 
When reposing that night on my pallet of straw, 

By the wolf-scaring faggot that guarded the 
slain, 
In the dead of the night a sweet vision I saw, 

And thrice, ere the morning, I dreamt it again. 

Methought from the battle-field's dreadful array 

Far, far I had roam'd on a desolate track ; 
'Twas in autumn, and sunshine arose on the way 
To the home of my father that welcomed me 
back. 
I flew to the pleasant fields, traversed so oft 

In life's morning march when my bosom was 
young ; 
I heard my own mountain-goats bleating aloft, 
And knew the sweet strains that the corn-reapers 
sung. 



The New Military Song Book. f 

Then pledged we the \vine-cup ? and fondly I swore 

From my home and my weeping friends never to 
part : 
My little ones kissed me a thousand times o'er, 

And my wife sobb'd aloud in her fulness of heart. 
" Stay, stay with us, rest — thou ail weary and 
worn [" 

And fain was the war-broken soldier to stay; 
But sorrow return'd with the dawning of morn, 

And the voice in my dreaming ear melted away ! 



UPON THE PLAINS OF FLANDERS. 

T. Campbell.] [^'>*, " The British Grenadiers." 

Upon the plains of Flanders, 

Our fathers long ago, 
They fought like Alexanders 

Beneath old Marlborough ; 
And still in fields of conquest 

Our valour bright has shone, 
With Wolfe and Abercrombie, 

And Moore and Wellington. 

Our plumes have waved in combats 

That ne'er shall be forgot, 
Where many a mighty squadron 

Reel'd backwards from our shot. 
In charges with our bayonet, 

We lead our bold compeers : 
But Frenchmen like to stay not 

For British grenadiers. 

Once bravely at Vimiera 

They hoped to play their parts, 

And sing fal lira lira, 

To cheer their drooping hearts, 



The New Military Song Hook. 

But English, Scotch! and Paddy \Y hacks, 

We gave three hearty cheers, 
And the French soon turned their backs 

To the British grenadiers. 

At St. Sebastiano, 

And Badajos's town, 
Though raging like volcanoes 

The shell and shot came down, 
With courage, never wincing, 

We scaled the ramparts high, 
And waved the British ensign, 

In glorious victory. 

And what could Bonaparte, 

With all his cuirassiers, 
3n battle do, at Waterloo, 

With British grenadiers ? 
Then ever sweet the drum shall ber' 

That march unto our ears, 
Whose martial roll awakes the soul 

Of British grenadiers. 



THE DASHING WHITE SERGEANT. 

General Burgoyne.] [Music by Bishop. 

If I had a beau 

For a soldier who'd go, 

Do you think I'd say no? 
No, no, not I ; 

When his red coat I saw, 

Not a sigh would it draw, 

But I'd give him eclat 
For his bravery. 
If «m army of Amazons e'er came in play, 
As a dashing white sergeant I'd march away. 



Th s New Military Song Book. 

When my lover he has gone, 
Do you think I'd take on, 
Sit moping, forlorn ? 

No, no, not I. 
His fane my concern, 
1 low my bosom would burn, 
When I saw him return 

Crowned with victory ! 
It an army, &c. 



NOT A DRUM WAS HEARD. 

Rev. C. Wolfe.] [Music by T. Williams. 

Not a drum was heard, nor a funeral note, 

As his corse to the ramparts we hurried ; 
Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot 

O'er the grave where our hero we buried. 
We buried him darkly at dead of night, 

The turf with our bayonets turning, 
By the struggling moonbeam's misty light, 

And our lanterns dimly burning. 

By the struggling moonbeam's, &c. 

Few and short were the pray'rs we said, 

And we spoke not a word of sorrow, 
But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead, 

And we bitterly thought of the morrow. 
No useless coffin confin'd his breast, 

Nor in sheet nor in shroud we bound him ; 
But he lay like a warrior taking his rest, 

With his martial cloak around him. 
But he lay like a warrior, Sec. 

We thought as we heap'd his narrow bed, 
And smooth'd down his lonely pillow, 

That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his 
head, 
And we far away on the billow. 



10 The New Military Song Book. 

Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone, 
And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him ; 

But nothing he'll reek, if they let him sleep on 
In the grave where a Briton has laid him. 
Hut nothing he'll reek, &C 

But halt our heavy task was done, 

\\ hen the clock told the hour tor retiring, 
And we heard by the distant and random gun 

That the foe was sullenly tiring. 
Slowly and sadly we laid him down, 

From the held of his fame fresh and gory ; 
We carved not aline, we raised not a stone, 

But we left him alone with his glory. 
We carved not a line, &c. 



THE MERRY LITTLE SOLDIER. 

Alford.] [Music by Reeve. 

I'm a merry little soldier, 

Fearing neither wound nor scar, 

When in battle no one bolder, 
Honour is my leading star. 

To arms, to arms, we'll fly, 
When honour calls, no foe appals, 
We'll conquer, or we'll nobly die: 
Then march away, march away, 
Trumpets sound, and cymbals play j 
March away, march away ! 
To the merry fife and drum. 

Hark ! the martial trumpets sounding. 

Notes that echo loud alarms ; 
To support our troops in India, 

Sons of Britain ! now to arms. 

To arms, to arms, flic 



The New Military Song Booh. 11 

Sons of Britain ! sons of freedom ! 

Draw your swords, raise high your shields; 
Haste for India's future safety, 

Make the proud black tyrants yield. 

To arms, to arms, &c. 

Pretty maids, with arms extended, 

For protection loudly call ; 
We from harm will try to shield them, 

Or, for them, in glory fall. 

To arms, to arms, &c. 

Lovely woman is a treasure, 

What is man without their aid ? 
To protect them is a pleasure ; 

I've a heart that's not afraid. 

To arms, to arms, &c. 



ALL'S WELL. 

T. Bibdin.] [Music by J. Braham. 

Deserted by the waning moon, 
When skies proclaim night's cheerless noon, 
On tower, or fort, or tented ground, 
The sentry walks his nightly round: 
And, should a footstep haply stray 
Where caution marks the guarded way^ 
" Who goes there ? Stranger, quickly tell !" 
" A friend !" " The word !" « Good-night !" " All's 
well!" 

Or sailing on the midnight deep, 
While weary messmates fondly sleep. 
The careful watch patrols the deck, 
To guard the ship from foes or wreck ; 



12 The New Military Song Book. 

And while his thoughts oft homeward veer, 

Some well-known voice salutes his ear; 
« What cheer, ho !- brother, quickly tell ! 

Above— below.*' — Good-night !" " All's wel if 



I'M GOING FOR A SOLDIER, JENNY. 

W. H. Bellamy.] \ Music by S. Nelson. 

I'm going for a soldier, Jenny, 

Going o'er the rolling sea : 
They've given me a golden guinea, 
That they say has 'listed me. 

'Tis no use to fall a-erying, 

Give your senseless weeping o'er ; 

Many a day you've heard me sighing ; 
You should have been kind before. 

'Tis very fine and pretty, Jenny, 
Now to wish that I should stay ; 

But indeed I'm thinking, hinny, 
We'll not meet this many a day. 

What if, heart and spirit sinking, 
What if I should come to shame, 

Be it as it may, I'm thinking 
You alone will be to blame. 

Long and dearly I have lov'd you, 
As you must full well have known; 

If I had not faithless prov'd you, 
I had never reckless grown. 

But fare you well ! the hours are Hying, 

Time it is that 1 was gone ; 
When next another heart you're trying, 

Jenny, look into your own. 



The New Military Song Book. 13 



LOVE AM) WAR. 

DUET. 

T. Cooke.] [Music by T. Cooke. 

Lover. — While love absorbs my ardent soul 

I think not of to-morrow. 
Beneath his sway years swiftly roll ; 

True lovers banish sorrow. 
By softest kisses, warm'd to blisses, 

Lovers banish sorrow. 

Soldier, — While war absorbs my ardent soul 
I think not of the morrow. 
Beneath his sway years swiftly roll ; 

True soldiers banish sorrow. 
By cannon's rattle roused to battle, 
Soldiers banish sorrow. 

R . j L. — While love, &c. 
xow. ( ^ While war, &c. 

Both. — Since Mars loved Venus, Venus Mars, 

Let's blend love's wounds with battle 

scars, 
And call in Bacchus, all divine, 
To cure both pains with rosy wine ; 
And thus beneath his social sway, 
We'll laugh and sing the hours away ! 



THE SOLDIERS TEAR. 

T. H. Bayly.] [Music by A. Lee. 

Upon the hill he turn'd 

To take a last fond look 
Of the valley and the village church, 

And the cottage by the brook. 



14 The New Military Song Book. 

He listened to the sounds 

So familiar to his car, 
And the soldier leant upon his sword, 

And wiped away a tear. 

Reside that cottage porch 

A girl was on her knees, 
She held aloft her snow-white scarf, 

Which fluttered in the breeze* 
She breath 'd a prayer for him — 

A prayer he could not hear — 
But he paused to bless her as she knelt, 

And wiped away a tear. 

He turn'd and left the spot — 

Ah, do not deem him weak — 
For dauntless was the soldier's heart, 

Though tears were on his cheek. 
Go, watch the foremost ranks 

In danger's dark career, 
Be sure the hand most daring there 

Has wiped away a tear. 



THE LAST WORDS OF M ARM ION. 

Sir Walter Scott.] [Music by T. Cooke. 

The war, that for a space did fail, 

Now, trebly-thundering, swelled the gale, 

And " Stanley !" was the cry : 
A light on Marmion's visage spread, 

And fired his glazing eye. 
With dying hand above his head. 

He shook the fragment of his blade, 
And shouted, " Victory !" 
" Charge, Chester, charge ! On. Stanley, on !" 

\\ ere the last words of Marmion. 



The Xew Military Song Book. 15 

HOIST HIGH THE FLAG. 

R. Werford.] [Music by E. J. Loder. 

Hoist high the flag again, 

The flag that never yields, 
Unfurl it o'er the mam, 

O'er Europe's warrior fields ! 
For freedom and for right 

Our heroes man the deck, 
To punish pride they fight, 

And wild ambition check. 

Shall despots madly bold, 

Their barbarous hordes array, 
And like the Goth of old, 

\Y ith ruin pave their way. 
Must Europe bend the rule 

Before the Northern Bear, 
And nations brave and free 

His serf- like livery wear ? 

No ! vain is all his might, 

And impotent his pride, 
For Britain leads the fight 

And Gallia's at her side ! 
And they shall drive the foe 

Back to his icy lair ; 
They'll chase him to his realms of snow, 

And leave him howling there. 



SCOTS WHA HAE. 

R, Burns.] [Scotch Air 

Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled, 
Scots wham Bruce has aften led, 
Welcome to your gory bed, 
Or to victory ! 



10 The New Military Song Book. 

Mows the day and how's the hour ; 
See the front o' battle lour ; 
See approach proud Edward's power- 
Chains and slavery ! 

Wha will be a traitor knave ? 
\\ ha can fill a coward's grave ? 
\Y ha sae base as be a slave ? 
Let him turn and flee ! 

Wha for Scotland's king and law 
Freedom's sword will strongly draw? 
Freeman stand or freeman fa', 
Let him on wi' me ! 

By oppression's woes and pains, 
By your sons in servile chains, 
We will drain our dearest veins, 
But they shall be free! 

Lay the proud usurpers low; 
Tyrants fall in every foe ; 
Liberty's in every blow ; 
Let us do or die ! 



POOR JOE THE MARINE. 

]. Ashley.] [Music by Ashley. 

Poor Joe the Marine was at Portsmouth well 
known, 

No lad in the corps dress'd so smart, 
The lasses ne'er looked at the youth with a frown — 

His manliness won every heart. 
Sweet Polly, of Portsea, he took for his bride, 

And surely there never was seen 
A couple so gay march to church side by side, 

As Polly and Joe the Marine. 



The New Military Song Book. 17 

Eie Hymen's bright torch at their nuptials could 

blaze, 

Loud thundering guns they heard rattle : 
And Joe in an instant was forced to the seas, 

To give a bold enemy battle. 
The action was dreadful — each ship a mere wreck ! 

Such slaughter few sailors have seen ; 
Two hundred brave fellows lay strew'd o'er thedeck, 

And among them poor Joe the Marine. 

But victory, faithful to brave British tars, 

At length put an end to the fight ; 
Then homeward they steer'd, full of glory and scars, 

And soon had fam'd Portsmouth in sight. 
The ramparts were crowded the heroes to greet, 

And foremost sweet Polly was seen ; 
But the very first boat her keen eye chane'd to meet 

Bore the corpse of poor Joe the Marine. 

The shock was severe ; swift as lightning's forked 
dart, 

Hei poor head with wild frenzy fir'd ; 
She new to the beach, softly cried, " My poor 
heart !" 

ClaspVl his hands, kiss'd his lips, and expir'd. 
Their bodies were laid 'neath a wide spreading yew, 

And on a smooth stone may be seen — 
*' One tear-drop let fall, all ye lovers so true, 

On Polly and Joe the Marine !" 



THE BANNERS OF BLUE. 

S. Waller.] [Music by S. Waller. 

Strike up, strike up, Scottish minstrels so gay, 

Tell of Wallace, that brave warlike mar.. 
Sing also of Bruce, your banners display 

While each chief leads on his bold ciau. 



J 8 The New Military Song nook. 

Here's success, Caledonia, to thee, 
To the sons of the thistle so true ; 

Then march, gaily march, so cantie and free, 
There's none like the banners of blue. 

March on, march on, march on, to the brazen 
trumpet's sound : 
How quickly in battle, in battle array, 
Each brave Highland chief assembles his men, 
And they march, and they march, to the bagpipes 
so gay. 

Here's success, Caledonia, &c. 



THE VETERANS SON. 

J. E. Carpenter.] [Mus;c by J. L. Hatton. 

Oh ! weep not that I leave the shore, 

Dear mother, for the raging sea ; 
The fame my father won of yore, 

Why should it not be shared by me ? 
Remember 'tis my country's call — 

Then, where our banners proudly wave, 
I'll bravely stand, or nobly fall 

In glory's field — in honour's grave ! 
Then weep not that I leave the shore, 

Dear mother, for the raging sea ; 
The fame my father won of yore, 

Why should it not be shared by me ? 

The quiet of thy peaceful cot 

1 lov'd — but 'twas in boyhood's days. 
Dear mother, tell me — have I not 

The courage you were wont to praise ? 
Too long my father's sword hath lain 

To tell but of some olden fight ; 
But I must gird it on again, 

Iii honoui's cause to guard the right ! 



The New Military Song Book. 19 

Then weep not that I leave the shore, 
Dear mother, for the raging sea; 

The tame my father won of yore, 
Why should it not be shared by me? 



MOTHER, IS THE BATTLE OVER? 

Anonymous.] [Music by B. Roats 

Mother, is the battle over ? 

Thousands have been slain, they say ; 
Is my father coming ? — tell me, 

Have the English gained the day ? 
Is he well, or is he wounded, 

Mother, do you think he's slain ? 
If you know, I pray you tell me, 

Will my father come again ? 

Mother, dear, you're always sighing, 

Since you last the papers read ; 
Tell me why you now are crying, 

Why that cap is on your head ? 
Ah, I see you cannot tell me, 

Father is among the slain ; 
Although he loved us very dearly, 

He will never come again. 

Yes, my boy, your noble father 

Is one numbered with the slain, 
We shall not see him more on earth, 

But in Heaven well meet again. 
He died for old England's glory, 

Our day may not be far between, 
But I hope at the last moment 

That we all shall meet again, 



20 The New Military Song Book 

GOD DEFEND THE RIGHT, 

G. LlNLEY.] [MUSIC by LlNLEY. 

Our country's standard floats above, 
The ocean breeze to greet ; 

And her thunder Bleeps in awful calm, 

Beneath our trampling feet. 
But let the foeman fling abroad 

The banner of his wrath, 
And a moment will awake its roar, 

To sweep him from our path. 
Well may the sailor's heart exult, 

To view (J) Id England's might ; 
The cry is up, the struggle near, 

" May God defend the right." 

No Foreign Tyrant ever through 

Our wooden bulwarks broke ; 
No British bosom ever quail'd 

Within our walls of oak. 
Behold our ships in warlike trim, 

Careering through the wave ; 
The Hope— the Home— the Citadel— 

Of Britain and the brave. 

Well may the sailor's, &c. 



THE SOLDIERS FUNERAL 

C. Dibdin.] [Mush- by DlBPIN. 

The martial pomp, the mournful train, 
Bespeak some honoured hero slain : 
The obsequies denote him brave ; 
\ lark ! the volley o'er his grave ! 
The awful knell sounds low and lorn, 
^ ct cease, ye kindred brave, to mourn. 



The Xar Military Song Book. 21 

The plaintive fife and muffled drum, 

The man may summon to his silent home ; 

The soldier lives his deeds to trace, 

Behold the Seraph Glory place 
An ever-living laurel round his sacred tomb. 

Nor deem it hard, ye thoughtless gay, 
Short's man's longest earthly stay ; 
Our little hour of life we try, 
And then depart — we're born to die. 
Then lose no moment dear to fame, 
They longest live who live in name. 

The plaintive fife, &c. 



THE TIRED SOLDIER. 

Anonymous.] 

The tired soldier, bold and brave, 

Now rests his wearied feet ; 
And to the shelter of the grave 

He's made a safe retreat. 
To him the trumpet's piercing breath 

To arms shall call in vain ; 
Ned's quartered in the arms of death — 

He'll never march again. 

A boy he left his father's home, 

The chance of war to try ; 
O'er regions yet untrod to roam — 

No friend or brother nigh. 
Yet still he marched contented on ; 

Met danger, death, and pain : 
But now he halts — his toil is done, 

He'll never march again. 



2'2 The New Military Song Book. 

The sweets of spring by beauty's hand 

Lie scattered o'er his bier • 
His comrades, as they silent stand, 

Drop honest Ned a tear. 
And lovely Kate, poor Ned's delight, 

Chief mourner of the train, 
Cried, as she viewed the dreadful sight, 

He'll never march again. 



THE YOUNG RECRUIT. 
G. Linley.] [Music by F. KScKEN. 

See the ribbons gaily streaming, 

I'm a soldier now, Li/ette ; 
Yes, of battle I am dreaming 

And the honour I shall get. 
YV ith a sabre by my side, 

And a helmet on my brow, 
And a proud steed to ride, 

I shall rush on the foe. 
Yes, I flatter me, Li/ette, 

'Tis a life that well will suit 
The gay life of a young recruit. 

We shall march away to-morrow, 

At the break of the day ; 
And the trumpets will be sounding, 

And the merry cymbals play; 
Yet before 1 say good-bye, 

And a last sad palling take, 
Asa proof of your love, 

Wear this gift tor my sake. 
Then cheer up, my own Li/ette, 

Let not grief your beauty stain, 
Soon you'll see the recruit again. 



The New Military Song Book. 23 

Shame, Lizette, to still be weeping 

While there's fame in store for me; 
Think when home I am returning, 

What a joyful day 'twill be, 
When to church you're fondly led, 

Like some lady smartly dressed, 
And a hero you shall wed, 

\\ ith a medal on his breast. 
Ah ! there's not a maiden fair 

But with welcome will salute 
The gay bride of the young recruit.. 



DEIL TAK THE WARS.* 

T, Durfey.J [^/V, " Mark yonder Pomp.'" 

Deil tak the wars that hurried Billy from me, 

Who to love me just had sworn ; 
They made him captain sure to undo me: 

Woe's me, he'll ne'er return. 
A thousand loons abroad will fight him, 

He from thousands ne'er will run. 
Day and night I did invite him, 

To stay at home from sword and gun. 
I us'd alluring graces, 
With muckle kind embraces, 
Now sighing, then crying, tears dropping fall : 
And had he my soft arms 
Preferred to war's alarms, 
.My love grown mad, 
W ithout the man of God, 
I fear in my fit I had granted all. 

* It is to be observed, that in singing this song the first 
measure of the air must be repeated. 



24 The X w Military Song Book. 

I wash'd and patch'd, to mak me look provokiagj 

Snares that they told me would catch the men. 
And on my head a huge commode sat poking, 

Which made me show as tall again ; 
For a new gown too I paid muckle money, 

Which with golden llow'rs did shine; 
My love weil might think me gay and bonnie, 
No Scots lass was e'er so fine. 
My petticoat I spotted, 
Fringe too with thread I knotted, 
Lace shoes, and silk hose, garter full over knee: 
Hut oh! the fatal thought, 
To Billy these are nought ; 
Who rode to town, 
And rifled with dragoons, 
When Re, silly loon, might have plunder'd me, 



THE SOLDIER'S LOVE. 

C. Dibdin.] [Music by DlBDIN. 

I've health, and I have spirits too; 

Of work I've had my share ; 
And when you go, for love of you, 

I will your knapsack bear. 

Nor this resolve e'er will I rue, — 

We both alike will fare; 
And still content, for love of you, 

I will your knapsack bear. 

Though thunders growl, and lightnings bUlf! 

In dashes cleave the air, 
I'll march content, for love of you, 

And will your knapsack bear 



The New Military Sons, Book, 25 

All dangers, hazardous and new, 
One smile shall make me dare, 

Rememb'ring 'tis for love of yo;: 
That I your knapsack bear. 



COME, IF YOU DARE. 

J. Dryden.] [Music by Purcell. 

" Come, it' you dare !" our trumpets sound, 
11 Come, if you dare !" the foe's rebound ; 
u We come, we come !" 
Says the double beat of the thund'ring drum : 
Now they charge on amain, 
Now they rally again. 
The gods from above the mad labour behold, 
And pity mankind that will perish for gold. 

The fainting foemen quit their ground, 
Their trumpets languish in the sound — 
They fly ! they fly ! 
a Victoria ! Victoria !" the bold Britons cry. 
Now the victory's won, 
To the plunder we run ; 
Then return to our lasses like fortunate traders, 
Triumphant with spoils of the vanquish 'd invaders. 



THE SOLDIERS WATCHWORD. 

J. E. Carpenter.] [Music by S. Glover. 

What shall the soldier's watchword be, 
Fighting afar o'er the distant sea ? 
What are his thoughts when he's forced to roam — 
Are they not all of his own dear home? 



26 The New Military Song Book. 

Yes, but his courage fails not there, 

I lard though the lot that he's forced to bear; 

" The grave of a hero or victory !"• 

This shall the soldier's watchword be ! 

\\ hat shall the soldier's watchword be, 
Pacing the trenches with tired knee — 
Weary and footsore, while still he keeps 
Watch while each gallant comrade sleeps ? 
Does he not think that those starry skies 
Shine o'er the cot where his loved one lies ? 
Yes ! but he told her how brave was he ! 
Her name shall the soldier's watchword be. 

What shall the soldier's watchword be ? 
Worthy the land whose sons are free ! 
When the shrill trumpet calls to arms, 
Duty ! for doubt ne'er his breast alarms ; 
Charging the foe o'er the rugged ground, 
With heart like a lion's that chain ne'er bound, 
" Onward ! to death or to victory !" 
This shall the soldier's watchword be ! 



'TWAS THE DAY OF THE FEAST. 

S. Lover.] [Music by S. Lo\ i R. 

'Twas the day of the feast in the chieftain's hall, 
Twas the day he had seen the ibt man fall, 
'Twas the day that his country's valour stood 
'Gainst steel and lire, and the tide of blood. 
And the day was mark'd by h;s country well — 
For they gave him broad valleys, the hill and the 

dell, 
And they ask'd, as a tribute, the hero should bring 
The flag of the foe to the loot of the king. 



The New Military Song Hook. 27 

'Tvvas the clay of the feast in the chieftain's hall, 
And the banner was brought at the chieftain's call; 
And he went in his glory the tribute to bring, 
And lay at the foot of the brave old king: 
But the hall of the king was in silence and grief, 
And smiles, as of old, did not greet the chief; 
For he came on the angel of Victory's wing, 
While the angel of Death was awaiting the king. 

The chieftain he knelt by the couch of the king ; 
" I know," said the monarch, " the tribute you 

bring. 
Give me the banner, ere life depart ;" 
And he press'd the flag to his fainting heart. 
" It is joy e'en in death," cried the monarch, "to 

say, 
That my country hath known such a glorious day ! 
Heaven grant I may live to the midnight's fall, 
That my chieftain may feast in his warrior hall !" 



THE SOLDIER'S LIFE. 

, Di3DiN.] [Music by DlBDIN. 

This, this, my lad, 's a soldier's life — 
He marches to the sprightly fife, 
And in each town, to some new wife, 

Swears he'll be ever true ; 
He's here — he's there — where is he not ? 
Variety's his envied lot — 
He eats, drinks, sleeps, and pays no shot, 

And follows the loud tattoo. 

Call'd out to face his country's foes, 
The tears of fond domestic woes 
He kisses off, and boldly goes 
To earn of fame his due. 



28 The New Military Song Book. 

Religion, liberty, and laws, 
Both his are, and his country's cause — 
For these, through danger without pause, 
He follows the loud tattoo. 

And if, at last, in honour's wars, 
He earns his share of danger's scars, 
Still he feels bold, and thanks his stars 

He's no worse fate to rue : 
At Chelsea, free from toil and pain, 
He wields his crutch, points out the slain, 
And, in fond fancy, once again 

Follows the loud tattoo. 



THE OLD SOLDIERS DAUGHTER. 

W. H. Bellamy.] [Music by J. P. Knight. 

Oh ! do you remember the old soldier's daughter ? 

Fair as the morning in spring-time was she, 
And many a lover all vainly had sought her — 

To all she was distant as maiden may be. 
" Dear father," she cried, u with thee let me tarry, 

Though lowly our cottage, a home 'tis to me ; 
A vow 1 have made that I never will marry, 

Oh ! let me live happy, dear father, with thee." 

But vain was the vow of the old soldiers daughter : 

Young Patrick he woo'd her, though humble was 
lie, 
He knelt at her feet, to his bosom he caught her, 

And whisper'd, u Oh ! sav when our bridal shall 
be." 
41 Dear father," she cried, " 'twere a pity to t in y, 

A cow and a cottage has Patrick for me ; 
So dearly he loves me, I'm tempted to marry, 

And both will be happy, dear father., with thee." 



The New Mi/itari/ Song Book. 20 

And calm was the home of the old soldier's 
daughter — 
Pier Patrick beside her, her babe on her knee ; 
The aged they bless'd, and the youthful they sought 
her, 
For none were so cheerful, so happy as she. 
And fain was the soldier beside her to tarry, 

Till death gently called him, then calmly slept he. 
She still bless'd the day she was tempted to marry, 
Saying, " Patrick, thou'rt now all the world, love, 
tome!" 

THEY SAY THE FRENCH ARE 
COMING. 

C. Jefferys.] [Music by S. Glover. 

So they say the French are coming — 

If as friends, why, let 'em come: 
It as foes, I think they'd better 

Change their minds, and stay at home. 
Joinville, he who was a Prince once, 

Talked of coming some tine day, 
Just to pour a broadside in us, 

Then to cut and run away ! 
Well, it wasn't over-civil, 

Perhaps he only spoke in fun : 
When he'd not a home to go to, 

Didn't England find him one : 

Don't we welcome big and little ? 

Ask no questions why they come ; 
If their own's too hot to hold 'em, 

Don't they find with us a home ? 
Let 'em then give over crowing, 

Barking when they mustn't bite : 
Do they think, because we're peaceful, 

We've forgotten how to fight ? 



30 Th<> New Military Song Book. 

\\ aterloo !— a pretty reason 
\\ hy the French should go to war ; 

If they could blot out that story, 
Can they wipe out Trafalgar ? 

If they will fight, why then let 'em, 

It's a pity they're such fools; 
If they really covet glory, 

Let them learn in English schools. 
Let 'em use the right of speaking, 

Let 'em print their thoughts, and then 
They may throw away their rifles, 

And be reasonable men. 
We don't want to fight for glory, 

But we'll keep the good we have ; 
While an Englishman is left us, 

England shall not hold a slave. 

Let these Frenchmen pause a little, 

If their Bony seek the fray, 
Let 'em ask whose blood must quench it, 

Whose the pockets that must pay. 
a Jack's alive," and rough and ready, 

Friends with all, if friends they'll be, 
But if not, the strife of battle 

Must be on our home — the sea ! 
Nelson's watchword thrills each bosom ; 

If they seek the deadly fight, 
" Every man will do his duty," 

And may God protect the right . 

THE MINSTREL BOY. 

T. Moore.] [A > , " The Moreen: 

The minstrel-boy to the war is gone, 

In the ranks of death you'll find him ; 
His father's sword he has girded on, 
And his wild harp slung behind him. 



The New Military Song Book. 31 

a Land of Song !" said the warrior-bard, 
u Though all the world betrays thee, 

One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard, 
One faithful harp shall praise thee." 

The minstrel fell ! but the foeman's chain 

Could not bring his proud soul under ; 
The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again, 

For he tore its cords asunder ; 
And said, " No chains shall sully thee, 

Thou soul of love and bravery ! 
Thy songs were made for the pure and free, 

They shall never sound in slavery." 



VIVA, VICTORIA! 

C. Jffferys.] [Music by S. Glover. 

Rouse, ye lovers of peace and order, 

Of true freedom with honour united, 
Rally round the old banner of England, 
And its glory shall never be blighted. 
We have bold hearts in Britain's dominions, 

Who dare all that freemen should dare ; 
But the throne and the Queen is our watchword, 
And let traitors and foemen beware, 
Viva, viva, Victoria ! 

Viva, viva, Victoria ! 
Health to the Queen ! strength to the throne ! 
Viva, Victoria! 

We'll have peace, but it must be with honour, 

We have need of no new names in story ; 
But if war sound the tocsin, then Britain 

Still has heroes enough for its glory ! 
Shame the brawlers who trade in sedition, 

Misleaders who traffic in lies, 
And beware, lest these self-seeking martyrs, 

Would-be lions, prove wolves in disguise. 



32 Tnc New Military Song Book 

By the head or the hind, if he toileth, 

May the honest man live by his labour ! 
But the drone that call work and will not, 

Shall not rest on the strength of his neighbour ! 
To the throne as the safeguard of freedom, 

By our birthright, allegiance we swear; 

For the Queen, as the monarch of freedom, 

To the King of all kings be our prayer. 



COURAGE. 

Barry Cornwall.] [Music by Phillips. 

Courage ! — Nothing can withstand 

Long a wronged, undaunted land, 
If the hearts within her be 
True unto themselves and thee, 
Thou freed giant, Liberty ! 
Oh ! no mountain-nymph art thou, 
When the helm is on thy brow, 
And the sword is in thy hand, 
Fighting for thy own good land ! 

Courage ! — Nothing e'er withstood 
Freemen fighting for their good ; 
Armed with all their fathers' fame, 
They will win and wear a name, 
That shall go to endless glory, 

Like the gods of old Greek story, 
Raised to heaven and heavenly worth, 
For the good they gave to earth. 

Courage ! — There is none so poor, 
(None of all who wrong endure,) 
None so humble, none so weak, 
But may flush his father's cheek, 



The New Military Song Book. 

And his maiden's dear and true, 
With the deeds that he may do. 
Be his days as dark as night, 
He may make himself a light. 
What ! though sunken be the sun, 
There are stars when day is done ! 

Courage ! — Who will be a slave, 
That hath strength to dig a grave, 
And therein his fetters hide, 
And lay a tyrant by his side ? 
Courage ! — Hope, howe'er he fly, 
For a time, can never die ! 
Courage, therefore, brother men ! 
Cry " God ! and to the fight again !" 



THE SOLDIER-BOY. 

Dr. William Maginn.] [Irish Air 

I gave my soldier-boy a blade, 

In fair Damascus fashion'd well ; 
Who first the glittering falchion sway'd, 

Who first beneath its fury fell ? 
I know not, but I hope to know, 

That for no mean or hireling trade, 
To guard no feeling base or low, 

I gave my soldier-boy a blade. 

Cold, calm, and clear the lucid flood, 

In which the tempering work was done ; 
As calm, as clear, as cool of mood, 

Be thou whene'er it sees the sun. 
For country's claim, at honour's call, 

For outraged friend, insulted maid ; 
At mercy's voice to bid it fall, 

I gave my soldier-boy a blade. 



34 The New Militant Song Book. 

The eye which mark'd its peerless edge, 

The hand that weigh'd its balanced poise, 
Anvil and pincers, forge and wedge, 

Are gone with all their flame and noise, 
And still the gleaming sword remains ; 

So when in dust I low am laid, 
Remember by those heartfelt strains, 

I crave my soldier-boy a blade. 



HOHENLINDEN. 

T. Camphell.] [Music by T. C 

On Linden when the sun was low, 
All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, 
And dark as winter was the flow 

Of Iser rolling rapidly ! 
But Linden show'd another sight 
\\ hen the drum beat at dead ot night, 
Commanding fires of death to light 

The darkness of her scenery. 

By torch and trumpet fast arrayM, 
Each horseman drew his battle-blade, 
And furious every charger neigh'd. 

To join the dreadful revelry ! 
Then shook the hills with thunder riven 
Then rush'd the steed to battle driven, 
And louder than the bolts of heaven 

Far flash 'd the red artillery! 

But redder yet that light shall glow 
On Linden's hills of stained snow, 
And bloodier yet the torrent How 
()1 Iser rolling rapidly ! 



The New Military Song Book. 35 

'Tis morn, but scarce yon level sun 
Can pierce the war-clouds rolling dun, 
When furious Frank and fiery Hun, 
Shout in their sulphurous canopy ! 

The combat deepens : on, ye brave, 
Who rush to glory or the grave ! 
Wave, Munich ! all thy banners wave, 

And charge with all thy chivalry. 
Few, few shall part where many meet ! 
The snow shall be their winding-sheet, 
And every turf beneath their feet 

Shall be a soldier's sepulchre. 



CHEER, BOYS, CHEER. 

C. Mackay.] [Music by H. Russell. 

Cheer, boys, cheer ! no more of idle sorrow, 

Courage, true hearts, shall bear us on our way ; 
Hope points before, and shows the bright to- 
morrow ; 

Let us forget the darkness of to-day. 
So farewell, England, much as we may love thee, 

We'll dry the tears that we have shed before ; 
Why should we weep to sail in search of fortune ? 

So farewell, England — farewell for evermore ! 
Cheer, boys, cheer ! for country, mother country; 

Cheer, boys, cheer ! the willing strong right hand ; 
Cheer, boys, cheer ! there's wealth for honest labour ; 

Cheer, boys, cheer ! for the new and happy land. 

Cheer, boys, cheer ! the steady breeze is blowing, 
To float us freely o'er the ocean's breast ; 

The world shall follow in the track we're going, 
The star of empire glitters in the west. 

Here we had toil and little to reward it, 
But there shall plenty smile upon our pain, 



3G The New Military Song Bo 

And ours shall be the prairie and the forest, 

And boundless meadows ripe with golden grain. 
Cheer, boys, cheer ! for country, mother country; 

Cheer, boys, cheer ! united heart and hand j 
Cheer, boys, cheer! there's wealth Tor honest labour; 
Cheer, boys, cheer ! for the new and happy land. 



COME, ALL YE GEM'MEN 

VOLUNTEERS. 

C. DlBDIN.] [MUSIC by Dl2DIN. 

Come, all ye gem'men volunteers, 

Oi glory who would share, 
And, leaving with your wives your fears 

To the drum-head repair, 
Or to the noble Sergeant Pike. 

Come, come, without delay ; 

You'll enter into present pay, — 
My lads, the bargain strike : 
A golden guinea and a crown, 
Besides the Lord knows what renown, 

His Majesty the donor: 
And if you die, 
Why then you lie 

Stretch'd on a bed of honour. 

Does any 'prentice work too hard ? 

Fine clothes would any wear : 
\\ ould anyone his wife discard? — 

To the drum-head repair, 

Or to the, &c 

Is your estate put out to nurse ? 

Are you a cast-off heir ? 
Have you no money in your purse ? — 

To the drum- head repair, 

Or to the, ,\c. 



The New Military Sung Booh. 37 

THE SOLDIERS WIFE. 

Lieut. -Col. Addison.] [Music by G. Barker. 

His child has fled, and his old heart grieves ; 

Tis hard to feel disgrace 
From the child we love, yet harder still 

That rooted love to chase. 
He sees the couch where his infant slept, 

And he seeks the linden tree, 
Where that dear child first lisp'd her love 

While seated on his knee. 

She's gone with a soldier young and gay, 

From her father she has flown, 
No hand is near to check his tear, 

So he weeps and he weeps alone ; 
And he breathes a prayer for heavenly aid, 

His lips in blessings part, 
For who can tell how dear a child 

Is throned in a father's heart ? 

Joy, joy be his lot, for his prayer is heard, 

They kneel before him now, 
No guilty shame her cheeks proclaim, 

There's pride in her lovely brow ; 
Oh ! father, dear, thy children here 

Will calm thy future life, 
This soldier is thy kindred true, 

For I am a soldier's wife. 



O! VIVE L' AMOUR. 

J. R. Planch^.] [Music by A. Lee. 

He who wears a regimental suit, 
Oft is as poor as some raw recruit, 
But what of that ? 



38 The New Military Song Book. 

Girls will follow when they hear the drum, 
To view the tassel and the waving plume 

That deck his hat ! 
Oh, he will sing, when he is not on duty, 
Smoke his cigar, and flirt with some gay beauty. 

() ! vive I'amour, cigars, and cogniac ! 

Hurra ! hurra ! hurra ! hurra ! 

With these we'll bivouac. 
II una! hurra! with these we'll bivouac, 
Hurra ! hurra ! with these we'll bivouac. 

When we march into a country town, 
Prudes may fly from us and dames may frown, 

But that's absurd ! 
When we march away, we leave behind 
Prudes and dames who have been vastly kind, 

Pray take my word ! 
Off, off we go, and tell them we're on duty, 
Smoke our cigars, and flirt with some new beauty. 
O ! vive, &c. 



O ! LET ME LIKE A SOLDIER FALL. 

E. Fitzball.] [Music by W. V. Wallacf. 

! let me like a soldier fal 1 
Upon some open plain ; 

This breast, expanding for the ball 

To blot out every stain ; 
Brave, manly hearts confer my doom, 

That gentler ones may tell 
Howe'cr forgot, unknown, my tomb, 

1 like a soldier fell 

1 only ask of that proud rac ', 

\\ hich ends its blaze in me, 

To die the last and not disgrace 
Its ancient chivalry; 



The New Military Song Book. 39 

Though o'er my clay no banner wave 

Nor trumpet requiem swell ; 
Enough, they murmur at my grave, 

"He like a soldier fell." 



THE SOLDIER'S WIFE. 

Anonymous.] [Irish Air, 

The trump of war is sounding, love, 
Thy manly breast is bounding, love ; 
Say not we part, my faithful heart, 
With bursting sorrow wounding, love ! 

But let me fly with thee, my dear, 
Across the angry sea, my dear \ 

Though parents kind I leave behind, 
I've all the world in thee, my dear ! 

Should not my prayers defend thee, love ; 
When wounded, none befriend thee, love ; 
You then should see, that none like me 
So faithfully would attend thee, love. 

Should sickness overtake thee, love, 
Bereft of comfort make thee, love ; 

If I am by, one friend is nigh, 
A friend that will never forsake thee, love ! 



W 



OH, GIVE ME BUT MY ARAB 
STEED ! 

Weir,] [Music by G. A. Hodccn 

Oh, give me but my Arab steed ! 

My prince defends his right , 
And 1 will to the battle speed, 
To guard him in the fight. 



40 The New Military Song Book. 

His noble crest I'll proudly wear, 

And gird his scarf around — 
Hut I must to the field repair, 

For hark ! the trumpet's sound ! 
1 lark ! hark ! hark ! the trumpet's sound ! 
Oh, give me, &c< 

Oh, with my Arab steed I'll go 

At honour's glorious cry ; 
My sovereign meets th' invading foe — 

I'll save, or with him die ! 
His banner, 'mid the strife he braves, 

With fadeless laurels crown'd, 
Shall guide me where his falchion waves — 

Hut hark ! the trumpet's sound ! 
Hark ! hark ! hark ! the trumpet's sound ! 
Oh, give me, (Sec. 

THE SOLDIER'S LAST SIGH. 

E. N. Bellchambers.] [Music by G. A. Hodson. 

The trumpet may summon thy soldier away, 

And spur his proud spirit to arms ; 
Yet, warm wa'th the vigour that bids him away, 

He grieves to abandon thy charms. 
Though glory invite him, and splendour abound, 

Yet mark, dearest maid, his decree j 
Subdued by defeat, or by victory crown'd, 

The soldier's last sigh is for thee. 

But, hark ! 'tis the trumpet now speaks his adieu, 

And calls him from love to renown ; 
Then oh, dearest maiden, believe his heart true. 

Though fortune may smile or may frown, 
Though glory invite him, and splendour abound, 

Vet mark, dearest maid, his decree ; 
Subdued by defeat, or by victory crown'd, 

The soldier's last sigh is for thee. 



The New Military Song Book. 41 

THE DYING SOLDIERS PRAYER. 

W. Taylor.] [Music by Meyerbeer. 

" Watch o'er and guide her way, — 
Heavenly Father, to thee I pray ; 
Though on the cold earth I lie, 
This I would ask before I die, — 
Give her strength to meekly bear 

The loss that makes her widow 'd. 
Guard her with Thy loving care, 
Till in peace she joins me where 

None enter but the good ! 
Grant, oh ! grant this prayer ! 
Watch o'er and guard her way, — 
Father, to Thee I pray !" 

Night closed around the scene, 
Silence reign 'd where strife had been, — 
Death claim'd him for his prize. 
With this last prayer the hero dies: 
a Grant that victory crown the brave, 

Who fight 'neath England's banner ; 
Though I sleep in blood-stain'd grave, 
May her flag triumphant wave, 

And never know dishonour ! 
Grant, oh ! grant this prayer ! 
Father, I come," he cried, — 
His spirit fled— a hero died. 



RIFLEMEN, FORM. 

A. Tennyson.] [Music by M. W. Balfe, 

There is a sound of thunder afar, 

A storm in the south that darkens the day, 

Storm of battle and thunder of war, 
Well if it do not roll our way. 



42 The New Military Song Booh 

Storm ! storm ! Riflemen, form ! 

Ready, be ready to meet the storm ! 

Riflemen, riflemen, riflemen, form ! 
Be not deaf to the sound that warns, 

Be not gull'd by a despot's plea ! 
Are figs of thistles, or grapes of thorns ? 

How should a despot set men free ? 

Form, form, &c. 
Let your reforms for a moment go, 

Look to your butts and take good aims, 
Better a rotten borough or so, 

Than a rotten fleet or a city in flames. 
Form ! be ready to do or to die ! 

Form ! in Freedom's name and the Queen's ! 
True that we have a faithful ally, 

But only the devil knows what he means. 

Form, form, 6c e. 

THE VETERAN. 

T. H. Bayly.] [Music by J. P. Knight. 

It was a Sabbath morn, 

The bell had chimed for church, 
And the young and gay were gathering 

Around the rustic porch ; 
There came an aged man, 

In a soldier's garb was he, 
And, gazing round the group, he cried — 

" Do none remember me r" 

The veteran forgot 

His friends were changed or gone, 
The manly forms around him there 

As children he had known ; 
J le pointed to the spot 

Where his dwelling used to be, 
Then told his name, and, smiling, said — 

" You now remember me !" 



The New Military Song Book. 43 

Alas ! none knew him there j 

He pointed to a stone, 
On which the name he breathed was traced, 

A name to them unknown ; 
And then the old man wept, 

" I'm friendless now," cried he, 
" Where I had many friends in youth, 

Not one remembers me !" 



THE NIGHTINGALE'S SONG. 

TO THE SICK AND WOUNDED- 

Ope the window, let the air 

Fan the fainting soldier's brow ; 
Never droop, then, in despair — 

Gloomy prospects brighten now. 
Courage, brave hearts ! you shall not suffer long — 

Listen ! oh, list, to the Nightingale's song ! 

Sweetly warbling over the billow, 

Flies a pretty little bird — 
Music's charms shall soothe your pillow, 

Sweeter strains were never heard. 

Courage, brave hearts, &c. 

Hark ! of golden hope she's singing — 

Warbling of celestial things ; 
Heavenly consolation bringing, 

Dropping balsam from her wings. 

Courage, brave hearts, &c. 

Home, and wife, and children dear, 

In her melody you'll find — 
Sorrow smiles with joy to hear 

Of the dear ones left behind. 



44 The New Military Song Book. 

And though Death may raise his dart, 
Still the Nightingale's sweet voice 

Gently cheers the sinking heart, — 
Bids the parting soul rejoice. 



MAGNANIMITY. 

C. Dibdin.] [Music by DlBDIN. 

When once the din of war's begun, 

That heroes so delight in, 
Armies are conquer'd, cities won, 

By bloodshed and brave fighting. 
The trumpet sounds, the columns march, 

Friends from dear friends are sunder'd, 
Prepared is the triumphal arch, 

And the fallen foe is plundered. 
All this, I own, deserves a name, 
And truly in the rolls of fame 

Portrays a marking feature. 
Yet give me bravery from the heart, 
From self divested and apart, 

Exceeding mortal nature, 
That rushes through devouring waves, 
And, like a guardian angel, saves 

A sinking lei low -creature. 

In equal balance to maintain 

The barriers of each nation, 
Thus ever did stern Fate ordain 

Slaughter should thin creation. 
The trumpet sounds ! his native land 

Each tries to save from slavery ; 
While in the contest, hand in hand, 

Walk clemency and bravery. 
All this, I own, deserves a name, 
And stands in the records of fame, 

A truly marking feature. 



The New Mill tary Song Book. 45 

Yet give me bravery from the heart, 
From self divested and apart — 
Type of celestial nature, 

That rushes, &c 

THREE CHEERS FOR OUR SOLDIERS 
ABROAD. 

J. E. Carpenter.] [Musk by T. Browne. 

Come, fill, fill the goblet, and then let us give 

Three cheers for our soldiers abroad ; 
The deeds they have done will in memory live, 

While the arm of the brave wields a sword. 
Should they live to come back to their dear native 
land, 

We'll cheer them again and again, 
For we know ev'ry one in that patriot band 

For his land his last life-blood would drain. 

chorus. 
Then fill high the goblet, and toast them again, 

May each gallant brave meet his reward ! 
Here's " The heroes of Britain whore o'er the wide 
main — 
Three cheers for our soldiers abroad !" 

By danger surrounded, 'mid storm and in rain, 

Through the cold and the pitiless snow, 
They've fought and they've conquer'd again and 
again, 
Three to one though the desperate foe. 
For the bold and the brave who in death calmly 
sleep, 
.There's the tribute of many a tear ; 
\\ bile for those who untarnished our glory still 
keep, 
Ev'ry true English heart has a cheer \ 

Then fill high, &c. 



46 The New Military Song Book. 

WITH A HELMET ON HIS BROW. 

\\ ith a helmet on his brow, 

And a sabre by his side. 
The soldier mounts his gallant steed, 

To conquer or to die. 
His plume's like the pendant stream, 

In the wanton winter's wind; 
In the path of glory still, 

A bright wreath shall he find. 

CHORUS. 

Then let the trumpet sound, 
To the brazen 'd drum reply, 

A soldier must with honour live, 
Or once with honour die. 

Bright as his own good sword 

A soldier's fame must be, 
As pure as the plume that sits above 

His helmet white and free. 
No fear in his breast must dwell, 

Nor dread that shame may throw 
A spot on his blade so bright, 

And his helmet white as snow. 

Then, <Scc. 



STAND BY THE FLAG. 

Greene ] | Music by Inglis Bbrvon, 

Stand by the flag : let nothing daunt 

The heart, but guard it well. 
In gallant cheer well meet the foe, 

And make each charge to tell. 
Let Honour, Pride, and Victory's wreath 

Each serve to spread the story 
Of noble deeds, by British sons, 

Who fought for England's glory. 



The New Military Song Booh. 47 

Let not the tame of bygone years 

Be lost while ytt there's blood 
To brighten up old History's page, 

And make each record good; 
But shout, " Britannia rules the wave, 

Victoria rules the land," 
And she expects each gallant son 

By England's flag to stand ! 

Stand by the flag ! a traitor's he 

Who'd slight the sacred trust, 
An exile may he ever be 

Who'd insult at it thrust ! 
But let the cry from every tongue 

Resound o'er land and main — 
" Long live Victoria, England's Queen, 

Long may Victoria reign !" 



FREDERICK'S ADDRESS TO HIS 
ARMY. 

C. Selby.] [Music by G. Rodwell. 

Soldiers, comrades, I've oft to victory led 

Brave, gallant fellows, with whom I've fought and 

bled! 
To you, once again, your country trusts her cause — 
Soldiers of Prussia ! deserve the world's applause ! 
See there before ye, opposing columns stand. 
Forward to glory, we'll fight them hand to hand ! 
Charge like a torrent bursting from the main : 
Sweep all before ye, or die upon the plain ! 
Upon them, upon them ! 

Fame your deeds will sing ; 
Fight for your honour, boys— 
Your country, and your king! 



48 The New Military Song Book, 

Hark, hark, lads S the cannon boom from yonder 

hill— 
'Tis music — music all gallant hearts to thrill. 

Be Steady and cool, boys — iron be your nerves; 
Each one remember the noble cause he sen 
Be not impatient — wait till you see their eyes ; 
Aim at their belts, boys, and none will live to rise ! 
Nearer, nearer — fire! See, see their columns 

wheel! — 
Well done, boys— well done, boys ! at them with 

the steel ! 

Upon them, &C« 



BOYS, HAVE YOU HEARD OF THE 
BATTLE? 

A STREET BALLAD. 

O, boys, have you heard of the battle 

The Allies have had on the shore? 
The joy bells and cannons did rattle, 

Announcing it over and o'er. 
The total defeat ot the Russian 

Was echoed with joy everywhere. 
Success to John Hull and Napoleon ! 

For Peace is proclaimed, so I hear. 

CHORUS. 

Then here's to the army and navy, 
In Russia they were on the advance, 

Supporting the standard of freedom : 
Success to Old England and France. 

Fifty-eight thousand men had landed, 

Determined was every man 
To beat the wild Russians at Alma, 

Lord Raglan led on the van. 



The New Military Song Book. 49 

They crossed over rivers and mountains, 
With glittering bayonet and gun, 

And Menschikoff's great Russian army 
Were quickly compelled for to run. 

On the twentieth day of September 

This desperate battle was fought, 
The Russians will ever remember, 

Though dearly, my boys, it was bought 
With the blood of our courageous allies, 

Who fell on that fortified plain, 
They brought out the flag of Old England 

Without either blemish or stain. 

'Twas on the heights of Alma 

The Russians were lying entrenched, 
Lord Raglan and Marshal St. Arnaud 

Commanded the English and French. 
In spite of the fortified valleys, 

The Allies marched into the fight, 
Fifty-eight thousand men in bright armour 

Put all the wild Russians to flight. 

The Russians held their position, 

And fought for the space of three hours, 
Secluded behind their entrenchments, 

The balls flew around us in showers. 
At length, at the point of the bayonet, 

The Russians were forced to retreat, 
And fled in the greatest disorder, 

Compelled by a total defeat. 

The numbers that lay dead and wounded 

It's awful, my friends, to recite; 
Let's mourn for the loss of our allies 

That fell in that desperate fight ; 



50 The New Military Song Book. 

They fought them with great desperation, 

And made the wild Russians to yield, 
In battle where cannons did rattle, 

They conquered and died on the field. 



HONOUR TO THE BRAVE! 

Twas a good and gallant show 

As they muster 'd for the fight, 
With the plated breast and plumed brow, 

And the lances bare and bright. 
From polish'd helm and burning steel 

Blazed back the morning sheen ; 
And forth they rode to the battle-field, 

With a gay and dauntless mien. 

'Twas a good, <S:c. 

In truth it was a glorious sight, 

To mark their brave array; 
As on they tramp'd, with hearts as light, 

Had it been a festal day : 
And their crested banners curled and spread, 

In pride o'er the dancing plume; 
And each warrior vowed, as he kissed his blade, 

For a triumph or a tomb ! 

"'/was a good, &C 

But ah ! how chang'd, at the evening close, 

The few who returned again ; 
For victory shadowed their laurelTd brow, 

With the cypress for the slain. 
But glory to their nur.es who fell, 

A nation's light to save; 
And loud let the clarion trumpet sound, 

All honour to the brave ! 

'Twas a good, &C. 



The New Military Song Book. 51 

WHEN WAR'S ALARMS. 
R. B. Sheridan.] 

When war's alarms enticed my Willy from me. 

jMy poor heart with grief did sigh, — 
Each fond remembrance brought fresh sorrows on 
me, 
I waked ere yet the morning was nigh. 
No other could delight him : 
Oh, why did I e'er slight him ! 
Coldly answering his fond tale ; 
Which drove him far, 
Amidst the rage of war, 
And left silly me thus to bewail ! 

But I no longer, like a maid forsaken, 
Thus will moan, like yonder dove, 
But, ere the lark to-morrow shall awake hirm, 
I'll go seek my absent love. 

The hostile country over 
I'll fly to meet my lover, 
Scorning every threat'ning fear ; 
Nor distant shore, 
Nor cannon's roar, 
Shall longer keep me from my dear. 



THE HUSSARS PARTING. 

Claribel.] [Music by Claribel. 

" We are marching to the fight, love, 

The cruel Turkish war ; 
Grant me one flower, that thou hast nurs'd, 

To bear with me afar : 
One flow'r that as thine image, love, 

I'd wear upon my breast." 
" The flowers are all my mother's, sir ; 

I'll tell of your request." 



52 The New Military Song Book. 

" Nay, nay, give nothing but thine own, 

I claim no other's rights, 
One kiss to warm these cold, pale lips, 

Thro' the long lone watching nights." 
" I really have no time, sir, 

For flowers or kisses now, 
But seek me when the troops return, — 

Both shall be yours, I vow. ' 

" But what if when the troops return 

I do not come again ? 
Left with that still, stiff' company, 

That keep each battle plain?" 
" Alas ! alas ! then on thy grave 

I'd plant one flow'r alone, 
And all the kisses of my lips 

Should seal thy tablet stone." 



THE BANNER OF BRITAIN. 

]. E. Carpenter.] [Music by Henry Farmer 

Let our banner still float on the white-crested sea, 
'Tis the emblem of justice, the pride of the free; 
It hurls no defiance, no insult will give, 
'Tis for freedom it waves, 'tis for freedom we live. 
No base hand shall degrade it, we're ready to fight, 
In defence of our country, our Queen, and our 

right, 
And it on the broad waters the toe should appear, 
W e are ready to face him, undaunted by fear. 
Then hurrah for the flag that still waves o'er the sea, 
Unstain'd and unconquer'd, the flag o\ the tree. 
No invaders we fear, let them come if they dare, 
There'll be one laurel more for us Britons to wear. 



The New Military Song Hook. 53 

Let our standard still wave from the pole to the 

pole, 
It never yet fell 'neath a tyrant's control ; 
And shall it be said that its glory is o'er,— 
That it keeps not the fame that it gathered of yore: 
No ! no ! while the warm heart of Britain can beat, 
While there's wrong to be righted, or foemen to 

meet, 
Shall the banner be never in idleness furl'd, 
That in liberty's cause has waved over the world. 
Then hurrah for the flag that still waves o'er the 

sea, 
Unstain'd and unconquefd, the flag of the free 
No invaders we fear, let them come if they dare, 
There'll be one laurct more for us Britons to wear. 



THE GENTLEMAN OF THE ARMY. 

Jacob Beuler.] [Air, " Who'll be King but Charlie ?" 

I'm Paddy Whack, of Ballyback, 

Not long'd ago turn'cf soldier ; 
In grand attack, in storm or saek, 

None will than I be bolder. 
With spirits gay, I march away, 

I please each fair beholder ; 
And now they sing, " He's quite the thing, 

Och ! what a jovial soldier !" 
In Londonderry, or London merry, 
Oeh ! faith, ye girls, I charm ye ; 
And there ye come at beat of drum, 
To see me in the army. 

Rub a dub dub, and pilli li loo, 
Whack ! fal de lal la, and trilli li loo, 
I laugh and sing, God bless the King, 
Since I've been in the army. 



54 The New Military Song Book. 

The lots of girls my train unfurls 

Would form a pleasant party ; 

There's Kitty Lynch, a tidy wench, 

And Suke, and Peg M'Carthy; 

Miss Judy Baggs, and Sally Maggs, 

And Martha Scraggs, all storm me, 
And Molly Magee is alter me, 

Since I've been in the army ! 
The Sallys and Pollys, the Kittys and Dollys, 

In numbers would alarm ye ; 
E'en Mrs. White, who's lost her sight, 

Admires me in the army. 
Rub a dub dub, &c. 

The roaring boys who made a noise, 

And thwack'd me like the devil, 
Are now become before me dumb, 

Or else are very civil ; 
There's Murphy Roake, who often broke 

My head, now daresn't harm me ; 
But bows and quakes, and off he sneaks, 

Since I've been in the army. 
And if one neglect to pay me respect, 

Och ! another tips the blarney ; 
With " Whist, my friend, and don't offend 

A gentleman of the army." 
Rub a dub dub, &C 

My arms are bright, my heart is light, 

Good-humour seems to warm me; 
I've now become with ev'ry chum 

A favourite in the army. 
If I go on as I've begun, 

My comrades all inform me, 
They soon shall see that I will be 

A general in the army. 



The New Military Song Book. 55 

Delightful notion, to get promotion' 

Then, ladies, how I'll charm ye; 
For 'tis my belief, Commander-in-chief 
I shall be in the army. 

Rub a dub dub, and pilli li loo, 
Whack ! fal de lal la, and trilli li loo ; 
I laugh and sing, God bless the King, 
My country and the army ! 



THE BOWLD SOJER BOY. 

Samuel Lo\er.] [Music by Lover. 

Oh, there's not a trade that's going, 
Worth showing or knowing, 
Like that from glory growing, 

For a bowld sojer boy, 
Where right or left we go, 
Sure you know, friend or foe 
Will have the hand or toe 

From the bowld sojer boy. 

There's not a town we march through 

But ladies looking arch through 

The window panes, will search through 

The ranks to find their joy. 
While up the street, each girl you meet 
Will look so sly, will cry, u My eye, 
Oh, isn't he the darling, 

The bowld sojer boy !" 

But when we get the route, 
How they pout and shout, 
While to the right about 

Goes the bowld sojer boy. 
'Tis then that ladies fair. 
In despair tear their hair: 
For the devil a one 1 care, 

Says the bowld sojer boy 



uG The New Military Song Bom:. 

For the world is all before us, 
Where the landladies adore us, 
And ne'er refuse to score us, 

But chalk us up with joy. 
W e taste her cup, we tear her cap ; 
" Oh, that's the chap for me," says she, 
" Oh, isn't he the darling, 

The bowld sojer boy !" 

Then come along with me, 
Gramaehree, and you'll see 
How happy you will be 

\\ ith your bowld sojer boy- 
Faith, if you're up to fun, 
With me run, 'twill be done 
In the snapping of a gun, 

Says the bowld sojer boy. 

And 'tis then that without scandal, 
.Myself will proudly dandle 
Th2 little farthing candle 

Of our mutual flame and joy 
May his light shine as bright as mine, 
Till in the line he'll blaze and raise 
The glory of his corps, 

Like the bowld sojer boy. 



MIGHT I MARCH THROUGH LIFE 

AGAIN. 

E. Fitzball.] [Muih by Balpb' 

Might 1 march through life again, 
Thwarted by each former ill, 

To the end of earth's campaign, 
i would be a soldier still. 



The New Military Song Book. 5 

I have laugh 'd in peril's face, 

O'er a comrade slain have wept — 
And 'mid the waking warfare, 

On the blood-stained field have slept. 
Yet were life to pass again, 

Spite of every gone-by ill, 
To the close of earth's campaign, 
I would be a soldier still. 

I have seen the pale-faced moon, 

Shining on a hero's grave, 
Where a gallant heart lay cold, 

Once the noblest of the brave. 
But I saw that soldier fall, 

And the light which fill'd his eye— 
'Tis all I ask of glory, 

For my country so to die. 

Yet where, &c. 



DRAW THE SWORD, SCOTLAND. 

J. B. PlanchI] [Music by G. H. Rodvvell. 

Draw the sword, Scotland, Scotland, Scotland ! 

Over moor and mountain hath passed the war 
sign ; 
The pibroch is pealing, pealing, pealing ! 

Wha heeds not its summons is nae son o' thine ! 
The clans they are gathering, gathering, gathering ! 

The clans they are gathering by loch and by lea ! 
The banners they are flying, flying, flying ! 

The banners they are flying, that lead to victory ! 
Then draw the sword, Scotland, Scotland, Scot- 
land ! 

Charge as you have charged in days lang syne ! 
Sound to the onset, the onset, the onset ! 

He who now falters is nae son o' thine, 



58 The New Military Song Book. 

Sheathe the sword, Scotland, Scotland, Scotland ! 

Sheathe the sword, Scotland, tor dimm'd is its 
shine ; 
Thy foemen are fleeing, fleeing, fleeing ! 

And wha kens nae mercy is nae son o' thine. 
The struggle is over, over, over ! 

The struggle is over, the victory won ! 
There are tears for the fallen, the fallen, the fallen ! 

And glory to all who their duty have done. 
Then sheathe the sword, Scotland, Scotland, Scot- 
land ! 

With thy loved thistle new laurels entwine : 
Time ne'er shall part them, part them, part them ! 

But hand down the garland to each son o' thine. 



« THE SOLDIER'S LOVK. 

FOUR PART SONG. 

From the German.] [Music by KiicKEN. 

Before the morning sun is beaming, 
And soldiers of their conquests are dreaming, 
The drum resounds to arms, to arms, 
Dearest maid, now fare thee well. 

And while the call to arms is pealing, 
Each soldier to his true love is stealing, 
Perhaps to bid the last farewell. 
Dearest maid, &c, &C. 

While undisturbed all others are sleeping, 
Her bright eyes through the casement are peeping, 
The drum aroused alarm and fear. 
Dearest maid, <Scc, &c. 

Farewell, dear maid, and cease thy weeping, 
We all are here, in I Iraun's keeping, 
The soldier's bride will tine remain. 
Dearest maid, &c, &c. 



The New Military Song Book. 59 

THE SOLDIER AND THE 
VOLUNTEER. 

J. E. Carpenter.] [Music by C. W. Glover. 

Both. — Brother Soldiers, hand in hand, 
Ready we to meet the foe, 
Soldier. — You for home and native land, 
Volunteer. — You where duty bids you go. 
Both. — Both to England ever dear, 
Soldier brave and Volunteer. 

Volunteer. — I would guard my native land, 
But if time should ever come 
England needs her patriot band, 
Boldly march to beat of drum. 
Soldier. — England then shall proudly say, 
Brother Soldiers too are they. 
Both. — Yes ! both to England ever dear, 
Soldier brave and Volunteer. 

Soldier. — I have honours hardly won, 

See this cross upon my breast, 
Yet Eve but my duty done, 
Nothing braver than the rest. 
Volunteer. — We who guard our native shore, 
Do our duty, nothing more. 

Soldier. — Yet your soul with ardour burns, 
You our native land would save. 
Volunteer.— Ev'ry heart indignant spurns 

Those who honour not the brave ; 
England's Heroes you shall be • 

Soldier.— Brother Soldiers still are we. 

Both. — Brother Soldiers, yes, your hand ; 
Ready both to meet the foe ! 
Soldier. — You for home and native land 
Volunteer. — You where duty bids you go. 
Both. — Both to England ever dear, 
Soldier brave and Volunteer. 



CO The New Military Song Booh. 

MARCH OF THE MEN OF 
HARLECH. 

T. Oliphant.] [Musk by John Thomas. 

Hark ! I hear the foe advancing ! 
Barbed steeds arc proudly prancing, 
Helmets in the sunbeam, glancing, 

Glitter through the tree*. 
Men of Harlech, lie ye dreaming ? 
See ye not their falchions gleaming, 
\\ hile their pennons, gaily streaming, 

Flutter in the breeze ? 

From the rocks rebounding, 
Let the war-cry sounding, 
Summon all, at Cambria's call, 

The haughty foe surrounding. 
Men of Harlech, on to glory ! 
See your banners famed in story 
Wave these burning words before ye — 

" Britain scorns to yield !" 

'Mid the fray see dead and dying, 
Friend and foe together lying, 
All around the arrows flying, 

Scatter sudden death ! 
Frightend steeds are wildly neighing, 
Brazen trumpets hoarsely braying, 
Wounded men for mercy praying 

\\ ith their parting breath. 

See, they're in disorder, 
Comrades, keep close order ; 
Everthey shall rue the day 

They ventur'd o'er the border. 
Now the Saxon flies before us ? 
Victory's banner floateth o'er us, 
Raise the loud exulting chorus, 

" Britain wins the livid !" 



The New Military Song Booh. Gl 

REST, WARRIOR, REST. 

Dim 'ND.J [Music by Michael Kelly. 

He comes from the wars, from the red field of 

fight; 
He comes through the storms, and the darkness of 

night ; 
For rest and for refuge now fain to implore, 
The warrior bends low at the cottager's door. 
Pale, pale is his cheek — there's a gash on his brow — 
His locks o'er his shoulders distractedly flow, 
And the fire of his heart shoots by fits from his 

eye, 
Like a languishing lamp that just flashes to die. 
Rest, warrior, rest. 

Sunk in silence and sleep on the cottager's bed, 
Oblivion shall visit the way- weary head ; 
Perchance he may dream, but the vision shall tell 
Of his lady-love's bower, and her latest farewell ! 
Illusion and love chase the battle's alarms ; 
He shall dream that his mistress lies lock'd in his 

arms; 
He shall feel on his lips the sweet warmth of her 

kiss — 
Nay, warrior, wake not, such slumber is bliss ! 
Rest, warrior, rest ! 



THE BATTLES OF SEBASTOPOL. 

J. E. Carpenter.] [Music by E. J. Loder. 

'Twas twice three hundred noble ships 

Bore down upon the main, 
Swift as the greyhound from the slips 

They strove the shore to gain ; 



02 The New Military Song Book. 

One pulse in every proud breast beat 

That gallant sight to see, 
One thought alone ran through the fleet, 

And that was — Victory ! 
Secure the dastard foeman lay 

Behind his granite wall, 
But courage yet shall win the day — 

Sebastopol must fall ! 
Then well each gallant seaman plied 

The swift but steady oar, 
And soon our troops in martial pride 

Stood on the Crimean shore- 
Near sixty thousand valiant men — 

But ne'er a foe they met, 
The battle-cry was " Onward !" then, 

" We'll find the Russian yet. 
What though he couches in his lair, 

We'll raze his granite wall ; 
There's honour for the brave to share — 

Sebastopol must fall !" 
Now side by side the hosts advance — 

Two nations but as one ; 
Hurrah for England ! Vive la France ! 

At last the work's begun. 
From Alma's heights the despYate toe 

Pour dreadful volleys down, 
But on the breathless heroes go 

To gather fresh renown. 
Hurrah ! their ranks begin to reel — 

One gallant charge — they run — 
They can't withstand the British steel — 

The victory is won ! 
At Inkermann the Russian sought 

The mastery there to gain, 
In vain the brave allies he fought, 

Still masters of the plain ; 



The New Military Song Book. G3 

Outnumber'd, still they would not yield — 

They knew not how to fly, 
Resolved on that dread battle-field 

To conquer or to die ! 
Oh ! not in vain may be these deeds, 

So nobly dared and done — 
Remember, Russ, tho' Poland bleeds 

Sebastopol was won ! 



ENGLAND'S VOLUNTEERS. 

{. E. Carpenter.] [Music by S. Nelson. 

Oh, the volunteers of England ! they're valiant, 

stout, and bold, 
With manly hearts to guard the rights their fathers 

won of old ; 
They've stalwart limbs to wield their armsas Britons 

did of yore ; 
They're ready, when the time shall come, to guard 

our native shore. 
Though other lands be bright and fair, the one dear 

spot on earth 
A Briton proudly loves to own is that which gave 

him birth ; 
Go 'mid this loyal, gallant band, and hail with hearty 

cheers 
The pride and glory of our land — Old England's 

Volunteers ! 

Oh, the volunteers of England are happy England's 

boast ; 
So let them come, if any dare invade our native 

coast, 
A hundred thousand gallant hearts are ready to a 

man, 
And he who'd humble England's pride must beat 

them — if he can ! 



G4 The New Military Song Book. 

We seek no conquest, wage no war beyond our 
native shore, 

We only ask to hold our own, and keep it — nothing 
more ; 

And so we will in spite of all, for where's the Briton 
fears 

The courage and the gallantry of England's Volun- 
teers ! 



PIBROCH OF DONUIL DHU. 

Sir Walter Scott.] [Scotch Air* 

Pibroch of Donuil Dhu, 

Pibroch of Donuil, 
Wake thy wild voice anew, 

Summon Clan Conuil : 
Come away, come away, 

Hark to the summons ; 
Come in your war array, 

Gentles and commons ! 

Come from deep glen and 

From mountain so rocky ; 
The war-pipe and pennon 

Are at Inverloehy. 
Come every hill-plaid, 

And true heart that wears one; 
Come every steel blade, 

And Strong hand that bears one ! 

Leave the deer, leave the steer, 

1 ,eave nets and barges ; 
Come with your fighting gear, 

Broadswords and targes. 
Leave untended the herd, 

The Hock without shelter , 
Leave the corpse uninterr'd, 

'1 he bride at the altar. 



The New Military Song Book. 65 

Come as the winds come 

When forests are rended ; 
Come as the waves come 

When navies are stranded. 
Faster come, faster come, 

Faster and faster, 
Chief, vassal, page, and groom, 

Tenant and master. 

Fast they come, fast they come ; 

See how they gather ; 
Wide waves the eagle plume 

Blended with heather. 
Cast your plaids, draw your blades, 

Forward each man set ; 
Pibroch of Donuil Dhu, 

Now for the onset ! 



THE SOLDIER TO HIS SWORD. 

Barry Cornwall] [Music by Nlukomm. 

My sword ! My friend ! My noble friend ! 

Champion fearless ! Servant true i 

Whom my fathers without end 

In their thousand battles drew, — 

Come ! 

Let me bear thee to the light ! 

Let me clutch thee in my hand ! 

Oh ! how keen, how blue, how bright, 

Is my noble, noble brand ! 

Thou wast plucked from some base mine, 
Born 'midst stone and stubborn ciay : 
Ah ! who dreamt that aught divine 
In that rugged aspect lay ? 
Come ! 



6G The New Military Song Honk. 

Once we called and thou didst come, 
Straight from out thy sleep didst stait, 
And the trump and stormy drum 
Woke at once thine iron heart ! 

Thou wast like the lightning, driven 
By the tempest's strength at speed ! 
Brazen shields and armour riven 
Told what thou couldst do at need. 
Come ! 

Hark ! again the trumpets bra}' ! 
Hark ! where rolls the stormy drum ! 
/ am here to lead the way : 
Servant of my fathers — Come ! 



THE SONG OF WAR. 

T. Moore.] [Irish Aw. 

The song of war shall echo thro' our mountains, 
Till not one hateful link remains 
Of slav'ry's lingering chains, 
Till not one tyrant treads our plains, 

Nor traitor- lip pollute our fountains. 
No, never till that glorious day 
Shall Lusitania's sons be gay, 
Or hear, oh Peace, thy welcome lay 

Resounding through her sunny mountains. 

The song of war shall echo thro' our mountains, 
Till victory's self shall smiling Bay, 
" Your cloud of foes hath pass'd away, 
And freedom comes with new-born ray, 

To gild your vines and light your fountains 1" 
Oh never till that glorious d iv 
Shall Lusitania's sons be gay, 
Or hear, oh Peace, thy welcome lay 

Resounding through her sunny mountains* 



The New Military Song Book. G7 
NAPOLEONS MIDNIGHT REVIEW. 

Baron Zedlitz.] [Music by Chevalier Neukomm. 

At midnight's dreary hour is heard a fearful sound, 
The spectre-drummer's summons, parading round 

and round ; 
With his fleshless hands fast rolling, rolling in 

wonted play 
That awful signal rally, he takes his ghostly way 
Oh ! strange and wild is the 'larum peal that through 

the darkness comes, 
It stirs, it wakens the valiant ones, laid low in their 

grassy tombs ; 
The hearts that lie in the depths congealed of 

northern ice and snows, 
And those o'er whose unnumber'd heaps Italian 

summer glows, 
The brave in the slimy Nile en wrapt, and in Arabia's 

sands, 
They start from their graves, and arms again bedeck 

their glittering hands. 
At the midnight hour, afar and near, th' unearthly 

clamours flow, 
And he who poms the trumpet blast is riding to 

and fro ; 
On their airy steeds on ev'ry side the thronging 

dead obey 
The blood-stained hosts of the battle-field, in all 

their fierce array, 
Ghostly, beneath their gleaming helms, the grinning 

skulls appear, 
And countless weapons high in air their bony hands 

uprear. 
And at the midnight hour the chieftain leaves his 

grave ; 
Slowly he comes, on his charger white, amid his 

chosen brave ; 



OS The New Military Song Book. 

He wears no towVing plume, no mark of kingly 
pi ide, 

And small is the sheathed sword that hangs his 

shadowy form beside. 
The boundless plain illuming, the yellow moonbeams 

shine, 
The squadrons form, and the hero there surveys the 

warrior line ; 
The ranks salute their silent lord, the stately march 

renew, 
And now, with clanging music, pass before their 

master's view. 
Marshals and generals round him in circling order 

And a word to one beside him the chieftain whispers 

low ; 
That word with lightning swiftness flies through all 

the wondrous train, 
" France!" 'tis their watchword, and again — the 

password, " St. Helen !" 
Thus, at the midnight hour, along th' Elysian shore, 
Wanders a mighty spirit that toils on earth no 

more. 



THE WHITE COCKADE. 

Anonymous.] i Air. 

My love was born in Aberdeen, 
The bonniest lad that e'er was seen ; 
Hut noo he maks our hearts fii' sad, 
1 [e taks the field wi' his white cockade. 

( )!i he's a rantiif rovin' lad, 

I Ir's a brisk an' a bonnie lad , 

Betide what may I will be wed, 

An' follow the lad wi' the white cockade. 



The New Military Song Book. 69 

I'll sell my rock, my reel, my tow, 
My guid grey mare, an' hawkit cow; 
I'll buy mysel' a tartan plaid, 
An' follow the lad wi' the white cockade, 
Oh he's a rantin' & c. 



THE BRITISH LIGHT BRIGADE. 

E. Carpenter.] [sfi r > " The British Grenadiers."'' 

'Twas when the fight was at the height, 

Nor yet the battle won, 
The Russian horde their volleys pour'd, 

And thunder 'd every gun. 
When day seem'd night, and might seem'd right, 

And past all human aid, 
To Britain true that gallant few 
Was then the Light Brigade. 

We've read of old of heroes bold, 

But all their deeds must fade, 
As time records and fame rewards 
The British Light Brigade. 

But what were they to win the day ? 

They stood six hundred then, 
While down below, a mile or so, 

Were twenty thousand men ; 
And on their flank rode many a rank — 

In front the cannon play'd — 
But Raglan knew how brave and true 

He'd find the Light Brigade. 
We've read of old, .Sec. 

The older came — " The guns reclaim !'* 

Each leader held his breath ; 
\\ hat men could dare they'd brave and share, 

But there was certain death ! 



70 The New Military Song Bonk. 

Twas waste of life — unequal strife, — 

u No matter," Nolan said ; 
" There stands your foe !" — away they go — 

The gallant Light Brigade. 

\\ e\e read of old, Sec. 

As lightning stroke brings down the oak, 

So through their foes they pass: 
They strew d the ground with dead around, 

They mow'd them down like grass. 
Upon the plain they came again — 

The order was obeyd, — 
One laurel more then Britain wore, — 

But where the Light Brigade ? 
We've read of old, &c. 

When Cambridge scann'd his broken band, 

The gallant soldier wept, 
And more than man felt Cardigan, 

As from his steed he leapt ; 
Then who dare say, that come what may, 

Of numbers they're afraid, 
When ten to one the Russians run 

From the British Light Brigade ? 
We've read of old, & c. 



WAR SONG, 1804. 

Rev. ]. Nicoi.s.] [Air, " "The Exile of Erin." 

Now Scotia her heroes, that bathe in her fountains 
And bask on her hills, for the contest she trains ; 
All strong as the torrents that roll down her moun- 
tains, 
Ami swift as the tempests th.it sweep o'er her 
plains ! 



The New Military Song Booh. 71 

For ne'er shall her sons, amid war's loudest thunder, 
See their country alarm'd, and not burn to defend 

her! 
No ! never their ancient renown they'll surrender ! 
Their birthright is freedom ! they scorn foreign 

chains ! 



However our foes their designs may dissemble, 

Their arts to a nation enlightened are vain ! 
They would conquer our power, which has oft 
made them tremble, 
With which their ambition could not peace 
maintain ! 
They would tarnish our fame, not by rising above 

But by blasting detraction ! — for slaves cannot love 

it; 
They would plunder our wealth, which like robbers 

they covet, 
That wealth winch by commerce they never 

could gain ! 

See ! the ghosts of our fathers who conquer'd with 
Wallace, 
And with Bruce fought by Bannockburn's blood- 
purpled stream, 
From the clouds bending down, eye with rapture 
our valleys 
All glittering with arms in the sun's radiant 
beam ! 
The fame which our ancestors gained let us merit, 
And burn to defend, with their brave dauntless 

spirit, 
The blood -purchas'd land, which they bade us in- 
herit ! 
And dearer than life independence esteem! 



12 The New Military Song Booh. 

Rise, then, nobly rise ! ere our en'mies attack us ; 

What coward so base as to linger behind ? 
Our king, country, friends, all that's sacred invoke 
us, 
And kindle with ardour each generous mind ! 
We will die with that freedom our forefathers gave 

us ! 
For of death crown'd with glory no power can 

bereave us ! 
Or humble the tyrant who dares to enslave us, 
And give him the chains for our country de- 
sign'd ! 



WEEP NOT FOR THE FALLEN 
BRAVE. 

Anonymous.] [-^ ; '> " Scots ivLi hae?~ 

Weep not for the fallen brave, 
Mourn not those who died to save ; 
Hallow 'd is the bloody grave 

Where a patriot lies. 
His the loveliest wreath that fame 
E'er shall twine for mortal name ; 
His the tale that long shall claim 

Beauty's softest sighs. 

\ i ho that boasts a Briton's pride, 

\\ ho to heroes so allied, 

Would not woo the death they died, 

Crown'd by victory ? 
Who, that is a freeman's son, 
Would not do as they have done.' 
Win with death, as they have won, 

Kuropc's liberty. 



The New Military Song Booh. 73 

Waterloo ! that morning field 
Glittered gay with spear and shield, 
Barbed steed, and warrior steel'd, 

Gallia's chivalry. 
Hut night saw a sterner scene, 
Blood was gushing on thy green, 
Groans were heard, where shouts had been, 

Joy and revelry. 

Waterloo, thy field shall well 
Mark where Britons fought and fell ; 
How they fought let foemen tell, 

They that shrunk to see. 
But they bled in freedom's cause, 
Fought and fell for Europe's laws ! 
Nobly earn'd the world's applause — 

Bless their memory ! 



THE ARMY AND NAVY. 

J E. Carpenter.] [Music by T. Cooke. 

Soldier, — Oh ! give me the tented field, 
With martial colours flying, 
As long as my arm can wield 
The sword in my girdle lying. 

Sailor. — Let me have the rolling tide, 

The chase and the raging battle; 
The roar of the bold broadside, 

And the sound of the cannon's rattle. 

Soldier. — Oh ! a soldier's life for me ! 

The march and the bugle sounding ; 

Sailor.— Hut a sailor's bold and fret} 

As the bark o'er the ocean bounding. 



74 The New Military Song Book, 

Soldier. — Though the same green turf we tread 
May be the soldier's pillow ; 

Sailor. — Though the blue sky's overhead, 

And beneath the trackless billow, — 

BotL \ And'YiL J kllows "° fears 
When the signal calls to battle, 
And the music that he hears 

Is the sound of the cannon's rattle. 

Soldier. — We'd die for our native land, 
As our sires of old before us, 
In the fame of their patriot band, 
And the banner that waves o'er us. 

Sailor* — And while woman's voice can cheer, 
Will Britains' bold defenders 
Make Britain's foes still fear 
The flag that ne'er surrenders ! 

Soldier, — Oh ! a soldier's life for me, 

And a soul with ardour burning. 

Sailor, — Give me the rolling sea, 

Yet for some bright smile returning. 

Soldier. — "Mid the brave I'd take my stand 
In Britain's Army ever, — 

Sailor. — In the cause of our native land, 

From the N wv who could sever? 

n ., \ For a sailor ) , - 

Both - \ For a soldier | know8 m> k ' ar - 



The New Military Song Book. 75 

THE SOLDIERS' BATTLE. 

J. £. Carpenter.] [Music by S. Glover. 

In bygone days — what thoughts they raise — 

When you and I were young, 
About brave Hood and Collingwood 

How many a stave we sung. 
Each hero's name then dear to fame 

We cheer 'd with all our might, 
Because they cared for those who shared 

The dangers of the fight. 
I don't mean now to disallow 

That chieftains brave have we, 
When I sing the soldiers' battle, 

The soldiers' victory ! 

'Twas from the heights of Inkermann, 

All hid by mist and rain, 
The Russian pour'd a countless horde 

Of troops across the plain. 
There was not light to see to fight, 

But they their way could feel, 
And soon the foe was made to know 

The force of British steel. 
Won inch by inch they did not flinch, 

At last they made them flee ; 
That was the soldiers' battle, 

The soldiers' victory ! 

'Twas Wellington, at Waterloo, 

The Frenchman's valour tried ; 
Now, strange to see what things may be, 

We're fighting side by side. 
Well ! we forget and they forgive, 

For both have bravely done, 
And friends again must so remain, 

Since Inkermann was won. 



7G The New Military Song Book. 

Tis hard to say, on that proud day, 
Which fought most gallantly, 

But 'twas the soldiers' battle, 
The soldiers' victory ! 

How well and bravely Raglan fought, 

How gallant Cathcart fell, 
How Cambridge then led on his men, 

Let fame's loud trumpet tell ; 
How Evans struggled to the last, 

What brave Sir Colin did — 
On history's page each future age, 

Ne'er let their deeds be hid. 
But when they tell of Inkermann, 

Let this the record be — 
That was the soldiers battle, 

The soldiers' victory ! 



DEFENCE, BUT NOT DEFIANCE. 

S. Lover.] [Music by S. Lover. 

Come, let our silver bugles ring — 

( The gift of graceful beauty) 
Whene'er they call, we'll gaily spring 

To do a soldier's duty. 
Our banner fair a vow records, 

On which we build reliance, 
To guide oyr aim, to bless our swords — 

" Defence, but not defiance !" 

Our banner yet unchallenged flies, 

A homely motto bearing, 
Long may it float in peaceful skies- - 

Record no deed of daring ; 
To Britain's ancient glory we 

May point with sale reliance, 
To let our quiet motto be — 

" Defence, but not defiance \ n 



The New Military Song Hook. 

Let Victory spread her crimson wing 

At despots' dark invoking, 
For us — to war we'll never spring 

Unless at dire provoking. 
No lust of foreign glory stains 

The Volunteer's affiance, 
He would but guard his native plains — 

" Defence, but not defiance!" 

Like other dogs, " the dogs of war" 

Have different modes of fighting ; 
Of one — the bark is worse by far; 

Of t'other— worse the biting. 
On such a fight, the money down, 

I'll bet with safe reliance, 
And name the stake — a British crown, 

" Defence" will beat " Defiance." 



LAMENT FOR ABERCROMBIE. 

John Cunningham.] [^ r j " The Banks of Devon." 

When Nature with wild flowers bespangled the 
mountains, 
And meadows display'd a' their charms to the 
bee ; 
When pure gush the rills by their grass-bcrder'd 
fountains, 
And saft soughs the wind through the bloom- 
laden tree ; 
Beneath yon auld aik, on the green banks o' 
C louden, 
Where aft in the gloamin' I wander'd to rave, 
Auld Malcolm was seen, o'er his scars fondly 
broodin', 
Lamenting a warrior laid cauld in his grave. 



78 The New Military Song Book. 

He stood by the stream, on a strong claymore 
leaning, 
Like ane whase sad bosom o' sorrow is fou ; 
He strade o'er the gowans fou mournfully maening, 
And straight frae its scabbard his braidsword he 
drew, 
u Farewell, dear Renown," cried the auld lyart 
vet 'ran ; 
a For Malcolm nae mair will be seen on the field 
\Yi' death warsling dourly, his faes bravely scat- 
terin' ; 
The sword o' a sodger his arm downa wield. 

" But here though he wanders wi' eild heavy laden, 

And joyless gaes hirplin' down life's briery brae, 
He ance strade to glory, through blind bravely 
wadin', 

Whar great Abercrombie, his chief, led the way. 
Illustrious leader ! now stalking wi' heroes, 

AY ha bled for our country, our king, and our 
laws, 
When Freedom unfurls her banner, be near us, 

And rouse Scottish valour to stand in her cause. 

a By thee led to vict'ry, the sodger undaunted, 

In wild transport fired at the loud shouts <>" war. 
O'er heaps rushed to glory, the breach boldly 
mounted, 
Though death armed wi' terror his courage to 
scaur. 
Auld Scotia may lang on the heath wander cheer- 
less, 
And mourn as she sits by the sad-sounding 
wave, 
'I he prime o 1 her warriors, intrepid and fearless — 
'I he brave \bercrombie lies cauld in the 
grave '" 



The New Military Song Book. 79 

MOTHER, CAN THIS THE GLORY 
BE? 

}. E. Carpenter.] [Music by S. Glover. 

i st voice. — Mother can this the glory be 
Or' which men proudly tell, 
When speaking of the tearless ones 

Who in the battle fell ? 
Where is the light that cheered our 
home, 
Its sunshine and its joy ; 
Ours was, they say, the victory — 
But, mother, where's thy boy ? 

2vd voice. — My boy ! I see him in my dreams — 

I hear his battle-cry, 
I know his brave and loyal heart — 

He does not fear to die. 
E'en now methinks I see him still 

His country's banner wave ! 
On — on ! and win a deathless fame. 

My beautiful, my brave ! 

Both.— God of the battle, shield him still, 

And yet Thy will be done, 
A sister for a brother prays, 

A mother for her son ; 
We seek to share no glory now — 

We ask Thee but to save 
The noble hearts of England, 

Our beautiful and brave. 

ist voice* — Mother ! I know thy courage well, 
Thine is an ancient race, 
Vet while thy heart so proudly swells, 
A tear steals down thy face ; 



80 The New Military Song Book. 

E'en now you guess the fearful truth — 
Still, still our banners wave, 

But on that dreadful battle-field 
Where sleeps thy young and brave ? 

2nd voice, — Yes, yes, I knew it must be so — 

I told not all my dream, 
I saw my gallant boy ride forth 

\\ here crimson flow'd the stream ; 
I hear the shouts of victory — 

Cease, cease those sounds of joy, 
They cannot glad a mother's heart, 

Nor give me back my boy ! 

Botb.— GiK\ of the battle, hear us now, 

And yet Thy will be done, 
A sister for a brother mourns, 

A mother for her son; 
We cannot share the glory now — 

But ask Thee still to save 
The noble hearts of England, 

The beautiful and brave ! 



THE GRAVE AT THE ALMA* 

J. E. Carpenter.] [Music by E. L. Hime. 

No stone marks the spot where the young hero 
sleeps, 

No bright flowers bloom o'er his grave, 
No sentinel there now his weary watch keeps, 

\\ here slumbers the young and the brave. 
They bore him away from the red battle fray, 

Where first 'mid the foremost he fell, 
And tin.' spot they deemed best Tor a hero to rest 

W as the field that he fought in so well ! 



The New Military Song Book. 81 

Oh ! brief was the grief that his comrades might 
show, 

As they hurriedly laid him to rest, 
But fast Fell the tears, and the hearts filled with woe, 

In the home where they loved him the best. 
They read now his name on the proud scroll of 
fame, 

And they list to his story with pride ; 
B ut a mourner still weeps for the hero who sleeps 

On the field where so nobly he died 



DOES HAUGHTY GAUL INVASION 
THREAT? 

R. Burns.] [Music by Thompson, 

Does haughty Gaul invasion threat ? 

Then let the loons beware, sir ; 
There's wooden walls upon our seas, 

And Volunteers on shore, sir. 
The Nith shall run to Corsincon, 

And Criffel sink in Sol way, 
Ere we perm it a foreign foe 

On British ground to rally. 

Oh, let us not, like snarling curs, 

In wrangling be divided, 
Till slap come in an unco loon, 

Afld wi' a rung decide it. 
Be Britons still to Britain true, 

Among ourselves united ; 
For never but by British hands 

Must British wrongs be righted. 

The kettle o' the Kirk and State, 

Perhaps a clout may fail in't ; 
But de'il a foreign tinkler loon 

Shall ever ca' a nail in't. 



The New Military Song Book. 

Our fathers' blood the kettle bought, 
And who would dare to spoil it ? 

By Heaven, the sacrilegious dog 
Shall fuel be to boil it ! 

The wretch that would a tyrant own, 

And the wretch his true-born brother, 
Who'd set the mob above the throne, 

May they be damn'd together ! 
Who will not sing u God save the King," 

Shall hang as high as the steeple ; 
But while we sing " God save the King," 

We'll ne'er forget the people. 



A SOLDIER, A SOLDIER FOR ME. 

(From the " Humming Bird." Canterbury, 1786.) 
Anonymous.] 

A soldier, a soldier, a soldier for me — 
His arms are so bright, 
And he looks so upright, 
So gallant and gay, 
When he trips it away, 
Who is so nice and well-powdered as he ? 
Sing rub a dub rub, a dub rub a dub ; a dub a dub 
dub dub ; — 

Thunder and plunder ! 
A soldier, a Boldier, a soldier for me. 

Each mom when we see him upon the parade, 

He cuts such a Hash, 

With his gorget and Bash, 

And makes sneh ado, 

\\ ith his gaiter and queue. 
Sleeping or waking, who need be afraid ? 

Sing rub a dub, Sec 



The New Military Song Book. S3 

Or else when he's mounted, so trim and so tall, 

With broadsword in hand, 

The whole town to command, 

Such capers, such prances, 

Such ogling, such glances, 
Our hearts gallop off, and are left at Whitehall, 
Sing taran tantaran ; tantaran tantaran tan — 

Trumpet and thump it, — 
A soldier, a soldier, a soldier for me ! 

A soldier, &c. 



THE TWO BARRELS. 

S. Lover.] [Music by S. Lover. 

There's a barrel I have in a corner so sly, 

Well charged with the best of good ale ; 
With a tankard of that, how the time will slip by, 

With a pipe, and a song, or good tale ; 
If a friend just from over the way should step in, 

He's hail'd with a hearty good cheer, 
And never repents as he tastes the contents 

Of an Englishman's barrel of beer. 
And never repents as he tastes the contents 

Of an Englishman's barrel of beer. 

There's a barrel I have, but much stronger than 
beer, 

Is the charge which for that I intend ; 
It hangs by the chimney, in readiness near, 

For I mean it my hearth to defend. 
If a foe just from over the way should drop in, 

We'll meet him with three hearty cheers, 
But I think he'll repent when he tastes the contents 

Ot the barrels of stout Volunteers. 
Ay ! wont he repent when he tastes the contents 

Of the barrels of stout Volunteers: 



84 The New Military Song Book. 

And thus, double-barrell'd, my boys, let us live, 

Prepared for our friends or our foes ; 
The hand that in friendship we readily give, 

Is as ready, at need, to give blows. 
And whether the spigot or trigger we draw, 

Our barrels won't fail us, I ween, 
So tankards and rifles let's eharge, hip hurrah ! 

For our freedom, our eountry, and Queen. 
So tankards and rifles let's charge, hip hurrah ! 

For our freedom, our country, and Queen. 



THE ONSET. A BATTLE SONG. 

Barry Cornwall.] [Music by Neukomm 

Sound an alarum ! The foe is come ! 
I hear the tramp — the neigh — the hum, 
The cry, and the blow of his daring drum: 

Huzzah ! 
Sound ! The blast of our trumpet blown 
Shall carry dismay into hearts of stone: 
What ! shall we shake at a foe unknown ? 

Huzzah ! — Huzzah ! 

Have we not sinews as strong as they ? 
Have we not hearts that ne'er give way ? 
Have we not God on our side to-day ? 

I lu z/ah ! 
Look ! They are staggered on yon black heath ! 
Steady awhile, and hold your breath ! 
Now is your time, men, Down like 1 Death ! 

Huzzah ! — 1 hi/ /ah ! 

Stand by each other, and front your tors ! 
Fight, whilst a drop of the red blood flows ! 
Fight, as ye fought for the old reel rose! 
Huzzah! 



The New Military Song Book. 85 

Sound ! Bid your terrible trumpets bray ! 
Blow, till their brazen throats give way ! 
Sound to the battle ! Sound, I say ! 

Huzzah ! — Huzzah ! 



BANNOCKBURX. 

John Cunningham.] [Scotch Air. 

Wide o'er Bannock's heathy wold 
Scotland's deathful banners roll'd, 
And spread their wings of sprinkled gold 

To the purpling east. 
Freedom beam'd in ev'ry eye ; 
Devotion breathed in every sigh : 
Freedom heaved their souls on high, 

And steel'd each hero's breast. 

Charging, then, the coursers sprang ; 
Sword and helmet clashing rang ; 
Steel-clad warriors' mixing clang 

Echo'd round the field. 
Deathful see their eyeballs glare ! 
See the nerves of battle bare ! 
Arrowy tempests cloud the air, 

And glance from ev'ry shield. 

Hark the bowman's quivering strings ! 
Death on grey-goose pinions springs ! 
Deep they dip their dappled wings, 

Drunk in heroes' gore. 
Lo ! Edward, springing on the rear, 
LMies his Caledonian spear ; 
Ruin marks his dread career, 

And sweeps them from the shore. 



SG The New Military Song Rook. 

See how red the streamlets flow ! 
See the reeling, yielding foe, 
How they melt at every blow ! 

Yet we shall be free ! 
Darker yet the strife appears ; 
Forest dread of flaming spears ! 
Hark, a shout the welkin tears ! 

Bruce has victory ! 

Join the Caledonian lyre, 

In strains of bold celestial fire, 

Till the sound to Heav'n aspire, 

Bruce has victory ! 
Give the world, O Bard ! their praise ; 
Crown with glory's brightest bays : 
Sing them in eternal lays 

Who set their country free. 



COURAGE, HEARTS OF ENGLAND. 

J. E. Carpenter.] [Music by S. Glover. 

Courage — courage, hearts of England, 

And be not yet dismay 'd, 
Your dearly purchased laurels 

Are destined not to fade ; 
The same old martial spirit 

Our brave forefathers knew 
Has to our sons descended, 

And they shall conquer too ! 

Courage — maids and wives of England, 
Though fast your tears may flow, 

Think they but sleep in glory 
Who fell beneath the foe: 

\\ eep on — but still remember 

Brave hearts now proudly swell, 

And nobly will avenge them 

\\ ho in the battle tell. 



The New Military Song Book. 87 

Courage — courage, men of England, 

And pour your legions forth ; 
The star of glory lights them 

To honour, in the North ! 
Send forth your best and bravest. 

Nor furl the flag again, 
Till, as of old, triumphantly, 

It floats upon the main ! 



MADAM, YOU KNOW MY TRADE. 

C. Dibdin.] [Music by DibdiNc 

Madam, you know my trade is war ; 
And what should I deny it for ? 
Whene'er the trumpet sounds from far, 

I long to hack and hew. 
Yet, madam, credit what I say ; 
Were I this moment call'd away, 
And all the troops drawn in array 

I'd rather stay with you. 

Did drums and sprightly trumpets sound > 
Did death and carnage stalk around, 
Did dying horses bite the ground, 

Had we no hope in view ; 
Were the whole army lost in srnokc, 
Were they the last words that I spoke, 
I'd say, — and dam'me if I joke ! 

I'd rather stay with you. 

Did the foe charge us front and rear, 
Did e'en the bravest face appear 
Imprcss'd with signs of mortal fear : 
Though never vet'ran knew 



The New Military Song Book. 

So terrible and hot a fight ; 
Though all my laurels it should blight : 
Though I should lose so fine a sight ; 
I'd rather stay with you. 



THE SOLDIER'S ORPH/VN BOY. 

. Prest.] [sfi>', " Tom Starboard.'' 

Bill Standfast was a soldier true, 

A nobler youth did arms ne'er bear, 
Nought but his boy and lovely Sue, 

His King and country's love could share. 
And oh, how happy pass'd their days, 

No grief did e'er their hearts annoy ; 
They hourly sang each other's praise, 

Or fondly kissed their cherub boy. 

But war call'd William from his home, 

And Susan, faithful, loving wife, 
Declared that she with him would roam, 

And watch him in the deadly strife ; 
In vain did William fondly pray, 

Her infant in her arms she press'd ; 
Who smiled with joy as there he lay, 

And nestled in his mother's breai t. 

They reach the field, loud roars the fight ; 

And there, 'midst danger's hottest strife, 
By William's side with fond delight, 

\\ as ever seen his faithful wife. 
At last a shot flew through the air, 

And wing'd its deadly course around, — 
Struck William's breast— despair— despair ! 

It streteh'd him dead upon the ground! 



The New Military Song Book. S9 

With frantic shriek poor Susan knelt, 

And raised him from the blood-stained ground, 
Upon his face with madness dwelt, 

And vainly tried to staunch the wound. 
But while she thus his form caressed, 

A cannon ball with speed did glide. 
Tore forth the life-blood from her breast, 

And left her dead by William's side ! 

The war had ceased, and home once more, 

The soldier hastened with much joy, 
Their fallen comrades they deplore, 

But where was William's orphan boy ? 
Kind Heaven watched o'er the infant's fate, 

Adopted by a soldier kind ; 
That orphan boy is now a man ; 

A nobler one you cannot find. 



THE BATTLE OF CORUNNA. 

C. Dibdin.] [Music by Dibdin. 

Brother soldiers, drink about, 

And let us toast the news so glorious, 
That sets at rest all further doubt, 

That when the French are three to one, 
The bayonet can make them run, 

Dismayed from British arms victorious. 
That England is from danger free, 

Is rendered sure by gallant Moore; 
Fallen ! fallen ! fallen ! in the arms of victory. 

The battle of Corunna fought, 

Shall henceforth make the Frenchmen tremble 
At Britons, by experience taught 

That they can never make a stand, 
'Gainst us by either sea or land, 
Howe'er the braggarts may dissemble. 

That England, <Scc. 



DO The New Military Song Book. 

Portentous was the fearful chance; 

Tremendous was the mighty danger, 
To see three times our force advance, 

'Gainst troops exhausted, tir'd, subdued, 
Yet zealous for their country's good, 
Who, to a man, hold fear a stranger. 

That England,. &c. 

Yet when their leader was laid low ; 

Grief all their ardent rage suspended ; 
One moment only, for the foe 

With double vengeance fell each arm, 
They fled in fear and dread alarm, 
And soon the sanguine conflict ended. 

That England, &c. 

No sooner had malignant chance 

Of Moore and gallant Baird bereft us, 
Hut all were eager to advance : 

Our valiant generals led the way, 
As hungry lions seek their prey, 
For Heaven was kind, and Hope had left us. 
That England, &C. 

Now, to those glorious chiefs on high, 

The hero's spirit is ascending ; 
That hero who wished thus to die, 

Wished in his country's cause to fall ; 
Wolfe, Abercrombie, Nelson, all 
Who died Great Britain's rights defending. 

That England, &c. 

Then in thanksgiving let us bend, 

That Providence vouchsafed to hear us; 
That doubts and fears are at an end ; 

That should the tyrant venture here, 
'Twill prove the end of his career ; 
While wondering worlds shall love raid feu u:. 
That England, cvc. 



The New Military Song Book. 91 
THE SONG OF THE BATTLE. 

J. E. Carpenter.] [Music by L. Emanuel. 

The trumpets are sounding, the banners are spread, 
Ten thousand they come, with their iron-bound 

tread ; 
Like an avalanche sweeping in mighty array, 
The boHdest — the bravest — unconquered are they : 
In column unbroken they halt on the plain, 
Where the dew of the morning has left not a 

stain, 
Where the light of to-morrow must tell the dark 

tale, 
And the red field of slaughter be found in the vale. 

A shout rends the air — hark ! the crash of the 

drum ! 
'Tis the foemen appearing — they come, and they 

come. 
Loud — loud grows the battle — the music more 

wild, — 
Now many a mother must mourn for her child ; 
The cannons are roaring — like thunder they sound, 
And their lightning strikes death in the legions 

around : 
The dead and the dying are weltering in blood, 
And the red field of slaughter's a slippery flood. 

They waver — On ! horsemen ! press hard on the 

foe! 
Charge fiercely — Huzza ! see they turn and they 

go! 
O'er corpse— o'er the wounded — no matter — away ! 
The dastards are flying — give Britain the day. 
Oh ! Victory — Victory echoes the song, 
While trumpet and drum swell the choral along ; 
In glory they come, and in triumph they go, 
O'er the red field of slaughter to follow the foe. 



92 The New Military Song Book. 

THE BATTLE OF VITTORIA. 

William Glen.] [sbf'i " JVhistlc o'er the lave c/V. 1 

"* Sing, a' ye bards, wi' loud acclaim, 
High glory gi'e to gallant Grahamc, 
Heap laurels on our marshal's fame, 

Wha conquer'd at Vittoria. 
Triumphant freedom smiled on Spain, 
An' raised her stately form again, 
Whan the British Lion shook his mane 
On the mountains o' Vittoria. 

Let blust'rin' Suchet crously crack, 
Let Joseph rin the coward's track, 
And Jourdan wish his baton back 

He left upon Vittoria ; 
If e'er they meet their worthy king, 
Let them dance roun' him in a ring, 
An' some Scottish piper play the spring 

He blew them at Vittoria. 

Gie truth an' honour to the Dane, 
Gie German's monarch heart and brain ; 
But aye in sic a cause as Spain, 

Gie Britons a Vittoria. 
The English Rose was ne'er sae red, 
The Shamrock waved whare glory led, 
And the Scottish Thistle raised its head 

An' smiled upon Vittoria. 

Loud was the battle's stormy swell, 
Whare thousands fought and mony fell; 
Hut the Glasgow heroes bore the bell 

At the battle of Vittoria. 
The Paris maids may ban them a', 
Their lads are maistly wede awa, 

An 1 eauld an' pale as wreaths o' suaw 

They lie upon Vittoria. 



The New Military Song Book. 93 

Wi' quakin' heart and tremblin' knees 

The Eagle standard-bearer flees, 

While the u meteor Mag" floats to the breeze, 

An' wantons on Vittoria. 
Britannia's glory there was shown 
By the undaunted Wellington, 
An' the tyrant trembled on his throne, 

Whan hearin' o' Vittoria. 

Peace to the spirits o' the brave ! 
Let a' their trophies for them wave, 
An' green be our Cadogan's grave 

Upon thy field, Vittoria ! 
There let eternal laurels bloom, 
While maidens mourn his early doom, 
An' deck his lowly honour'd tomb 

Wi' roses on Vittoria. 

Ye Caledonian war-pipes, play ; 

Barossa heard your Highlan' lay, 

An' the gallant Scot showed there that day 

A prelude to Vittoria. 
Shout to the heroes — swell ilk voice 
To them wha made poor Spain rejoice ; 
Shout Wellington an' Lynedoch, boys, 

Barossa an' Vittoria ! 



AFFECTIONATE SOLDIER. 

! Twas in the evening of a wintry day, 

When safe returning from a long campaign, 

Allen o'er-toil'd, and weary with the way, 
Came home to see his Sally once again. 



94 The New Military Song Booh. 

His batter'd arms he carelessly threw down, 
And viewed his Sally with enraptur'd eyes, 

But she received him with a modest frown ; 
She knew not Allen in his rough disguise. 

His hair was knotted, and his beard unshorn, 
His tattered 'coutrements about him hung, 

A tear of pleasure did each cheek adorn, 

And blessings fell in torrents from his tongue. 

"Am I so altered by this cruel trade, 

That you your faithful Allen have forgot ? 

Or is your heart unto another stray 'd ? 

Ah ! — why escaped I from the murd'ring shot ?" 

When thus he spake, her wonted colour fled, 
She ran and sunk upon her Allen's breast, 

All pale, awhile, she look'd like one that's dead, 
He kiss'd, she brcath'd, and all her love confess'd. 

" Yes, my delight, tho' alter'd as thou art, 
Reduc'd by honest courage to this state ; 

Thou art the golden treasure of my heart, 

My long-lost husband and my wish'd-for mate." 



THE SOLDIER'S PARTING. 

The sound of the drum calls the soldier to arms, 
He eagerly presses his love to his breast, 

Exclaiming, " Dear girl, let no false alarms 

Ever turn your affections from him you have 

blest. 
It is true then' are many more wealthy than 1, 

Who to gain your regard would use every art ; 
But for you I've lived and would willingly (lie, 
'IIhii tell me, dear maiden, what says your 
heart Y l 



The New Military Song Book. 9-5 

u Let this be my answer," she quickly replied, 

And she threw the soft tear from her beautiful 
face, 
u I've no other suitor but has been denied, 

Nor could I once think thus my name to disgrace. 
Have you then, I may ask, for one moment believed, 

That I with ingratitude could make you smart ? 
No, by Heaven ! — let thus all your doubts be re- 
lieved — 

With my promise 1 gave unto you a fond heart." 



THE SOLDIER'S RETURN. 

R. Burns.] [j$r, " The mill, the mill, 0T 

When wild war's deadly blast was blawn, 

And gentle peace returning, 
Wi' mony a sweet babe fatherless, 

And mony a widow mourning ; 
left the lines and tented field, 

Where lang I'd been a lodger, 
My humble knapsack a' my wealth, 

A poor and honest sodger. 

A leal light heart was in my breast, 

My hand unstain'd wi' plunder ; 
And for fair Scotia hame again, 

I cheery on did wander. 
I thought upon the banks o' Coil, 

I thought upon my Nancy ; 
I thought upon the witching smile 

That caught my youthful fancy. 

At length I reach'd the bonnie glen, 

Where early life I sported ; 
I pass'd the mill, and trysting thorn. 

Where Nancy aft I courted : 



96 The New Military Snug Book. 

Wha spied I but my ain dear maid, 
Down by her mother's dwelling ! 

And turn'd me round to hide the flood 
That in my een was swelling. 

Wi' alter'd voice, quoth I, " Sweet lass ; 
Sweet as yon hawthorn's blossom 

! happy, happy may he be, 
That's dearest to thy bosom ! 

My purse is light, I've far to gang, 
And fain would be thy lodger ; 

I've serv'd my king and country lang — 
Take pity on a sodger !" 

Sae wistfully she gazed on me, 

And lovelier was than ever ; 
Quo' she, " A soldier ance I lo'ed, 

Forget him shall I never ; 
Our humble cot and homely fare, 

Ye freely shall partake it; 
That gallant badge, the dear cockade, 

Ye're welcome for the sake o't." 

She ga/.'d— she redden 'd like a rose — 

Syne pale like ony lily, 
She sank within my arms and cried, 

u \it thou my ain dear Willie?" 
u By Him who made yon sun and sky — 

By whom true love's rewarded, 

1 am the man ; and thus may still 

Ti ue lovers be rewarded ! 

"The wars are o'er, and I'm come name, 
And find thee still true-hearted ! 

Tho' poor in gear, we're rich in love, 
And mair we'«e ne'er be parted. " 



The New Military Song Booh. 97 

Quo' she, u My grandsire left me gowd, 

A mailen plenish'd fairly ; 
An' come, my faithfu' sodgcr lad, 

Thou'rt welcome to it dearly. " 

For gold the merchant ploughs the main, 

The farmer ploughs the manor ; 
But glory is the sodger's prize, 

The sodger's wealth is honour. 
The brave poor sodger ne'er despise, 

Nor count him as a stranger, 
Remember he's his country's stay 

In day and hour of danger. 



A BRITISH SOLDIER IS MY DAD. 

Cross.] 

A British soldier is my dad, 

The couch of ease disdaining, 
And I a true-born British lad, 

Like him, live by campaigning ; 
Dad makes the enemy retreat, 

His son and heir, I've fame in view, 
He ne'er was conquer 'd, I ne'er beat ; 
For when alarms loud call to arms, 

I beat a rub-a-dub and a rat-tat-too. 

Like dad, from love I never fly, 

Its joys are so inviting; 
He loves Old England, so do I, 

And glory take delight in ; 
A hero's name old dad enjoys, 

His son and heir, Eve fame in view, 
And irr the battle make some noise, 

For when alarms &c. 



98 The New Military Song Book 

THE ARMY AND NAVY OF BRITAIN 

FOR EVER! 

Let sailors and soldiers unite in this cause, 

Bound together by honour and loyalty's band ; 
Both right for Old England and cherish her laws, 
And give to the king each his heart and his hand. 

In this phalanx unite, 

Like lions we'll fight, 
While no private feuds our interests dissever ; 

But this be our boast, 

And our ultimate toast, 
Here's the Army and Navy of Britain for ever ! 

The sailor who ploughs on the watery main, 

To war and to danger and shipwreck a brother ; 
And the soldier who firmly stands out a campaign, 
Do they fight for two men who make war on 
each other ? 

O, no ! 'tis well known, 
The same royal throne, 
Fires their bosom with ardour and noble endea- 
vour ; 

And that each with his lass, 
As he drinks a full glass, 
Toasts the Army and Navy of Britain for ever ! 

That their cause is but one, and they both can 
unite, 
Needs no other example than this to be seen ; 
Who is bolder in danger, exporter in light, 
Than that maritime soldier, the honest marine ? 
He pulls and he hauls, 
He lights till befalls, 
And from foivtack or musket he never will waver ; 
But when the fray's o'er, 
With his Dolly on shore, 
Drinks the Army and Navy of Britain for ever ! 



The New Military Song Bonk. 99 

What matters it who braves the glebe or the surge ? 

Yet if there's a eontest about either station, 
Let that stimulus glory and loyalty urge, 

Who will stand the most firm to the king or the 
nation. 

While thus we agree, 
Let's fight and be free : 
Shall Britons 'gainst Britons draw daggers ? — oh ! 
never. 

IVIake all enemies fly, 
And let fame rend the sky, 
With the Army and Naw of Britain for ever ! 



THE FAITHFUL CAMP BUTCHER. 

Sam Steel is my name, and a man of some fame, 

For where the boys march, there am I , 
Yet, pray take me right, I mean not to fight, 

No— mine is their wants to supply ; 
For go where I will, I knock down and kill, 

And prove, if you'll give me belief, 
By night and by day, a friend as you'll say, 

And find them old English roast beef, 
Brave boys ! 
And find them old English roast beef. 

Like Britons they beat, and like Britons they eat, 

And while I can handle a knife, 
I'll cut up and carve, a soldier to serve, 

E'en though at the risk of my life. 
And since in the battle, though camions may rattle, 

A soldier's a stranger to grief, 
Fll prove very clear, to my heart they are dear, 

And find them old English roast beef, 

Brave boys, &c. 



100 The New Military Song Book. 

Then this, too, I'll boast, Old England's my toast, 

And her champions for ever, say I ; 
May they tight in her cause, nor e'er make a pause, 

Till they see all her enemies fly. 
And if I turn tail in my duty or fail, 

Why, may I be hanged like a thief! 
No, no, while I live, my assistance I'll give, 

And find them Old English roast beef, 

Brave boys, &c. 



GO, MY OWN DARLING BOY. 

T. H. Bayly.] [Irish At 

Go, my own darling boy, 

Though to see thee depart 
Blights the last bud of joy 

In my desolate heart ; 
Thou art called to the field 

Where thy father was slain ; 
And thy mother must yield 

All she values again. 

My child only thinks 

Of the conqueror's wreath ; 
My coward heart shrinks 

With forebodings of death ! 
Thy friends may be Been 

Giving laurels to thee, 
But branches as green 

Will then wave over me. 

The young may assuage 
1 [all their parting regrets, 

Bllt care clings to age- 
Till it dotes and forgets ; 



The New Military Song Book 101 

The young who deplore, 

May yet meet thee in joy ; 
But thy mother no more 

Shall behold thee, dear boy 



MY FATHERS SWORD. 

T. H. Bayly.] [Musk by T. H. Severn. 

My father's sword upon the wall 

1 las slumbered sinee his death ; 
Oil ! give it me, for now 'tis time 

To throw away the sheath. 
For long Fve been content to wear 

The laurels that he won : 
Give me the sword — and it shall gain 

New laurels for his son ! 

My father's sword ! oh, blame me not, 

Though tears bedew the steel ; 
Though nerveless now may fall my arm, 

It is not fear I feel. 
I weep to think how oft his hand 

Hath laid aside that sword, 
While he hath stooped to kiss my brow, 

And breathe some gentle word. 

My father's sword ! — this silken knot 

My own dear mother wove; 
Take hence the weapon — let it grace 

The halls she used to love. 
Give me another, — if my prayer 

In after years be heard — 
It shall not be unfit to hang 

Beside my father's sword. 



102 The New Military Song Booh 

MY BEAU IN THE RULE BRIGADE. 

J. E. Carpenter.] [Music by E. L. Hime. 

Of all the gay dashing young fellows 

That e'er stole the heart of a maid, 
I'm sure there's not one that can equal 

My beau in the rifle brigade. 
He stands five foot three — with his feather, 

His uniform neatly is made, 
He is bold as a lion, and braver, 

My beau in the rifle brigade. 

He goes out to drill every morning, 

He says he's an excellent shot ; 
He once was as pale as a lily, 

Now see what a colour he's got. 
No Frenchman or Russ could look fiercer, 

His whiskers — they're dyed, I'm afraid, 
.Make really a conquering hero, 

My beau in the rifle brigade. 

He can stand on one leg — but that's nothing 

To what he declares lie can do, 
He says he could aim up at Richmond 

And bring down a sparrow at Kew; 
He wishes our friends o'er the water 

Our tight little isle would invade; 
But I don't think they will when they hear of 

My beau in the rifle brigade. 

The red and the blue long have boasted 
How they o'er our hearts held the sway, 

But now — I appeal to the ladies — 
\\ e honour the green and the grey. 

Alas ! for the other young fellows, 
They wont haw a chance, I'm afraid, 

For win re is the heart can resist them ? 

The beaux of the rifle brigade ' 



The New Military Song Book. 103 
DARBY KELLY. 

T. Dibdin.] [Music by J. Whittaker 

My grandsire beat a drum so neat, 

His name was Darby Kelly, oh ! 
No lad so true at rat, tat, too, 

At roll-call or reveille, oh ! 
When Marlbro's name first raised his fame, 

My granny beat the point of war ; 
At Blenheim he, at Ramillie, 

Made ears to tingle near and far : 
For with his wrist, he'd such a twist, 

The girls would leer, you don't know how, 
They laughed and cried, and sighed and died, 

To hear him beat his row, dow, dow. 

A son he had, which was my dad, 

As tight a lad as any, oh ! 
You e'er would know, though you should go 

From Chester to Kilkenny, oh ! 
When great Wolfe died, his country's pride, 

To arms my dapper father beat ; 
Each dale and hill remembers still 

How loud, how long, how strong, how neat. 
With each drum -stick, he had the trick, 

The girls would leer, you don't know how ; 
Their eyes would glisten, their ears would listen, 

To hear him beat his row, dow, dow. 

Ere I did wed, ne'er be it said, 

But that the foe I dared to meet ; 
With Wellington, ok! Erin's son, 

I helped to make them beat retreat. 
King Arthur once, or Em a dunce, 

Was called the hero of the age ; 
But what's he been to him we've seen, 

The Arthur of the modern page ? 



104 The New Military Soul: Booh. 

For by the powers, from Lisbon's bowers, 
He trophies bore to grace his brow, 

He made Nap prance right out of France, 
With his English, Irish, row, dow, dow ! 



THE DEATH OF WELLINGTON. 

J. E. Carpenter.] [Music by E. L. Hime. 

RECITATIVE. 

Peace to the mighty soul ! the tearless breast 
Of England's warrior-statesman, now at rest ; 
A nation, weeping, homage pays to him, 
Whose well-earned laurels time can never dim ; 
\\ hose matchless dtxxU upon the scroll of tame 
Need no proud record, save his peerless name. 
\Y ELLINGTON ! 

AIR. 

\\ rep, Britain, weep, for your hero departed, 
The valiant in war, and the gentle in peace ; 

While history's page can recall the true-hearted, 
The fame of her warrior still must increase. 

There is not a chief in the annals of story 

For whom blooms more brightly the laurels of 
fame, 

.And, oh! deem not the grave can extinguish the 

'1 hat surrounds, like .1 halo, our \\ ellington s 
name. 

T n lands far away, o'er the depths of the ocean, 
The banner or Britain he proudly unfurled; 

Then cherish his name with a warmth and devotion, 
\\ hose tame has gone forth to the ends of the 
world. 



The New Military Song Booh. 105 

The sword of the victor may rest — but, oh ! never 
The sun of his glory in Britain will set ; 

He'll live in the hearts of her people for ever, 
Her Wellington, Britain will never forget ! 



YES ! WE CRY " TO ARMS." 

. Carpenter.] [Music by Gustav Pressel. 

Though naught remain, we'll wear no chain, 

A sword will still be ours ; 
From hill and plain to drive again 

Oppression's boastful powers: 
The iron might of battle right 

Befits the truly brave, 
Who seek for freedom in the fight, 

Or find a hero's grave ! 

Cheer up ! cheer up ! a faithful band, 

Our trust is in the Lord ; 
He giveth might to those who fight 

When i'wc men wield the sword. 
The foreign yoke must now be broke, 

We dread not war's alarms — 
A nation's voice ne'er vainly spoke 

Whose people cry " To arms !" 

The trumpet calls, its echo falls 

Amid our ancient hills; 
And now on height and castle walls, 

The breeze our banner fills : 
A faithful band we'll bravely stand, 

Or yield our latest breath. 
Then on, for home and fatherland, 

To victory, or death ! 



106 The New Military Song Book. 
BOWLD GENERAL HOOLF (WOLFE). 

Adapted from an older song 
by C. Horsley, Esq. 

Bowld General Hoolf to his men did say: — 
" Come follow, follow, without delay ; 
To yonder mountings that aire so high, 
Come follow bowldly, come follow bowldly, all for 
Our King and Countery ! 

a These be the French in the mountings high, 
While us pure lads in the valleys lie ; 
But I see them falling like leaves in the sun, — 
Through the smoke and the fire, thiough the smoke 

and the fire of our thund'ring, roaring, blazing 

British guns !" 

The second volley they gave to us 

Wounded our general in his left breast ; 

Yonder he sits, for he cannot stand, 

Crying — "Fight on bowldly;" crying, " Fight on 

bowldly, 
For while I live I always will have the command ! 

" Here is my treasure — lies a 1 ! in gold — 

Take it and part it, for my blood runs a-cold ; 

Take it and part it," General Hoolf did say, 

u You Luis of honour — you lads of honour that 

have made such valiant, galliant, noble, plucky 

play!" 

Then said our General — u When you do return, 
Go tell my par-rents not for me to mourn, 

And tell my tender old mother dear, 

Not to weep o'er me— not to weep o'er me — for I 

die tin- death that I would wish vou — every 

one— to share !" 



the New Military Song Book. 107 
MINDEN'S PLAINS OF GLORY. 

Rev. Sir H. D. Bate.] [Music by Shield. 

From Minden's plains of glory 
I date my warlike story, 
When conquest, never yet undone, 
By British arms was nobly won. 
See old Kingley's lads present, 

Revenge desiring, 

Incessant, firing, 
On fame and Britain's glory bent. 
All our powder and ball expended, 
The monsieurs thought the battle ended, 
Till with bayonets advancing, 
We quickly set their columns prancing, 
And to make our victory good, 
Followed through the crimson flood. 
From Minden's plains of glory 
I date my warlike story, 
When conquest, never yet undone, 
By British arms was nobly won. 



THE DEATH OF WOLFE. 

T. Dibdin.] [Music by T. Williams, 

RECITATIVE. 

Shades of Britannia's sons, who sleep 
In hallo w'd earth — or on the deep — 
Spirits of patriots dead ! who fell — 
Inspire me while a hero's fate I tell ! 

AIR. 

The martial strife is heard once .. 

Again the din of war now reigns 
On that far-famed Columbian shore, 

Where blood o'erflowed Canadian plain . 



108 The New Military Song Book. 

Wolfe — dauntless Wolfe ! who boldly led 
Of gallant chiefs a patriot band, 

And in the arms of victory bled 

For " Freedom and his Native Land !" 

The foe did thrice his force display, 

Yet thrice was conquer'd on that day. 

No father e'er his children loved, 

No children more revered a sire 
Beyond what Britain's hero prov'd, 

'.Mid Gallia's fierce unceasing fire! 
His shatter'd wrist he calmly binds 

While cheerly " Onward !" was his cry ; 
A second shot his heart now finds, 

And Victory mourns that Wolfe must die 
Then raise to him the patriot lay, 
In Victory's arms who fell that day ! 



THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT 
BRIGADE. 

A. Tennyson.] [Music by J. Blockley. 

Haifa league, half a league, 
I I.ilf a league onward ! 

All in the valley of Death 

Rode the six hundred ! 
Into the valley of Death 

Rode the six hundred ; 

For up came an order \\ hich 
Some one had blundered. 

' k forward the Light Brigade ! 

Take the ; am -, N< i an said : 
Into the valley of Death 

Rode the six hundred. 



The New Military Song Book. 109 

u Forward the Light Brigade/' 
No man was there dismayed ; 
Not though the soldier knew 

Some one had blundered : 
Theirs not to make reply, 
Theirs not to reason why, 
Theirs but to do and die ; 
Into the valley of Death 

Rode the six hundred. 

Cannon to right of them, 
Cannon to left of them, 
Cannon in front of them, 

Volleyed and thundered : 
Stormed at with shot and shell, 
Boldly they rode, and well, 
Into the jaws of death — 
Into the mouth of hell — 

Rode the six hundred. 

Flashed all their sabres bare, 
Flashed all at onee in air, 
Sab'ring the gunners there ; 
Charging an army, while 

All the world wondered; 
Plunged in the battery smoke, 
With many a desperate stroke. 
The Russian line they broke, 
Then they rode back, but not — 

Not the six hundred 

Cannon to right of them, 
Cannon to left of them, 
Cannon behind them, 

Volleyed and thundered. 
Stormed at with shot and shell, 
\\ hile horse and hero fell ; 



110 The New Military Song Book. 

Those that had fought so well 
Came from the jaws of death, 
Back from the mouth of hell, 
All that was left of them — 
Left of six hundred. 

When can their glory fade? 

Oh ! the wild charge they made ! 

All the world wondered. 
Honour the charge they made 
Honour the Light Brigade, 

Noble six hundred. 



THE DEATH OF WELLINGTON. 

J. Bruton.] [Music by J. Blewiti 

Peace to the Chief! may angels bless 

That name, that all adore! 
Our country has one star the less, 

And Heaven has one the more. 

He went with honours and with years- 
Rare senator and sage ! 

Britannia writes his name In tears 
On History's brightest page. 

Rest, Soldier, rest ! your close akin 

V\ as to yon orb of day 
That lingers long at eve, then in 

Mild splendour sinks away. 

Till time itself shall cease to be, 

Your name shall be ador'd ; 

Your fame by immortality 

Is graven with your sword ! 



The New Military Song Book. Ill 
VIVE LE TRICOLOR! 

J. F.. Carpenter.] [y#/-, u Partant four la Syne." 

Time was when France and Britain vied, 

The mastery each to gain ; 
To rule the land the Frenchmen tried, 

And we to rule the main ; 
Now, side by side, in martial pride, 

The nations go to war, 
And, in a righteous cause allied, 

Shout " Vive le Tricolor !" 

May France and Britain long remain 

Like brothers brave and true ; 
May discords never come again 

Like those our fathers knew ; 
We'll lend them ships their troops to bear, 

And join them in the war, 
And, while the victory we share, 

Shout " Vive le Tricolor !" 

Then honour to the gallant host 

That with our troops advance ; 
May Britain long have cause to boast 

Her brave allies of France ! 
Would despots e'er in future dare 

With us to go to war, 
United we'll the glory share — 

Then " Vive le Tricolor !" 



THE SOX OF A SOLDIER. 

T. H. Bayly.] [Music by J. P. Knight. 

Oh ! dear as you are, tell me not of a home 

Where my spirit may re.it like a bird in a cage ; 
The wing that has early been tempted to roam 

Must ever be restless, till fetter'd by age. 



112 The New Military Song Book. 

I know, if you love me, I won your good will, 
Because I was first of the brave and the free ; 

Then give me a smile to encourage me still — 
The son of a soldier a soldier must be. 

Oh ! dear as you are, could you bid me remain 

Inactive and dull, I would scorn to obey ; 
A soldier's ambition you shall not restrain — 

No ! breathing a blessing, you'll send me away. 
You'll watch my return from the brow of the hill, 

You'll proudly exult when my laurels you see; 
Then give me a smile to encourage me still, 

For the son of a soldier a soldier must be. 



THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO. 

C. Mackay.] l/fir* Old English 

Firm as England's coast 
When the tempests blow, 

Stood the British line, 

And foiled the advancing foe. 
The fierce Napoleon sighed to win the day, 
But Wellington was calm — the master of the fray. 

lie saw the time 4 had come, 

Blow trumpets ! beat the drum ! — 

And when the order flew 

Like light o'er \\ aterloo, 
And the great immortal strife begun : 

tk Now be brief,' 1 

Said the chief; 

u We'll excel all the deeds we have done: — 

Follow me, 

Von shall set- 
1 low the battle should be fought and won !" 



The New Military Song Book. 113 

Ney and all his men, 
Never known to fail, 

Fled in sudden rout, 

Like storms of rattling hail. 
The old Imperial Guard — Napoleon's boast — 
Dissolved before the shock of the mighty British 
host ; 

And Blucher, found at last, 

Came sweeping like a blast. 

The knell of France had peal'd ; 

The Frenchmen fled the field ; 
The great Napoleon saw he was undone. 

" Follow rne !" 

Then said he : 
u All is lost ! — they are coming ! — let us run 

Sawvons-nous ! 

They pursue ! 
And the battle has been lost and won !" 

Thus the fight was fought, 
Not for vain renown, 

Not for sake of war, 

Or mad ambition's crown ; 
But for the sake of peace, unknown so long, 
To give the world repose from tyranny and wrong. 

And thus for evermore, 

Unconquered as before, 

May Britain stand her ground, 

And Wellingtons be found 
To wave her glorious banner to the sun ; 

And to lead, 

\\ hen we need, 
Crying " Englishmen ! the strife has begun ! 

Follow me ! 

You shall sec 
How the battle should be fought and won !" 



114 The New Military Song Book. 
THE SOLDIER. 

C. Dibdin the Younger.] [Music by Mrs. Dibdin. 

The soldier who to battle goes, 

And danger braves for duty, 
Altho' he laughs at fear or foes, 

Like others sighs for beauty ; 
For Cupid's a general whom all must obey, 

And the bravest of mortals must prove 
For no weapon, tho' keenest that art can display, 

Can wound like the arrow of love. 

The soldier from the field returns, 

To tell his martial story ; 
With joy his ardent bosom burns, 

To gain the meed of glory ; 
But glory you'll find little more than a name, 

And affection much sweeter will prove, 
For tho' grateful the much-envied laurels of fame, 

Much dearer's the myrtle of love. 



BRITAIN AND FRANCE. 

J. E. Carpentf.k.] [Music by E. J. L.01 1 k. 

The Lion of Britain, the Eagle of France, 
Have fought all their old quarrels out, 

And, having shook hands, now they'll bravely advance 
To put all their foes to the rout ; 

The past all forgotten, save this, that they know, 
Each owned that the other was brave, 

And though once as a foe, now as brothers they'd go, 

Every land from oppression to saw. 

.May Britain and France long united remain, 

W it 1 1 Liberty's banner unfurled ; 
To teach foreign despots they never again 
May threaten the peace of the world ! 



The New Military Song Bonk. 115 

The power of Old England— the prowess of Gaul — 

Oh, why should they not still unite ? 
Not seeking for conquest, but sheltering all 
Who strive 'gainst oppression and might: 
.May God save their armies, if e'er they're sent 
forth 
To drive back a despot again, 
May their power be felt from the south to the 
north, 
And peace and prosperity reign ! 

May Britain, &c. 



THE BATTLE IS FOUGHT. 

T. H. Bayly.] [French Air. 

The battle is fought, and the weapons are sheath'd, 
The brows of the victors with laurel are wreath'd ; 
Each sword glitters bright, and the blood-stains are 

gone, 
The triumph of war is remembered alone ; 
But some may shrink back from this splendid array, 
Some mourners in tears may turn sadly away, 
They heed not the pomp of the trophy or wreath, 
Whose hearts loved the lost one who slumbers 

beneath. 

Behold yon fair maid, with a glance of despair 
Seeks for one who she knows too well cannot be 

there ! 
Till all are gone past, like a statue she stands, 
Then silently covers her face with her hands. 
Too hop;Vss to weep, and too feeble to stir, 
Each fold of yon banner seems bloody to her ; 
That wreath on his tomb will hang withering now 
She once hoped in triumph to twine round his brow. 



11G The New Military Song Bank. 
THE TRUMPETS SOUND. 

C. Dibdin.] [Music by DlBDIN. 

Though forward stands the soldier's name 

'Mid prospects rude and steril, 
To where high towers the fane of fame 

The steps are toil and peril. 
How keen the pang when friends must part, 

Fierce glory's fire suspending ! 
An angel wife pours out that heart 

Which killing fears are rending; 
But vain are sympathetic sighs, 
Uplifted hands, and streaming eyes ; 
Beckon'd by fate, behold the bands, 

The drums at distance rattle. 
Hark! the charge : 'tis honour commands, 

The trumpets sound to battle ! 

Death's work's begun ; in honour's bed 

Promiscuous heaps are lying ; 
AppalPd the living, and the dead 

Lamented by the dying; 
\\ hile memory added torture g: 

That tenderest thoughts awaken, 
See groups of mothers, children, \m\ 

B) feeble hope forsaken ; 
But vain are sympathetic sighs, 
Imploring hands and streaming 
Again appear the martial bands, 

The drums, &c 

\ vaunt, grim War! sweet Peace 18 ours— 

The hero's noblest capture ; 
Joy gaily leads the dancing hours, 
d misery's lost in rapture. 



The New Military Song Booh. 117 

Beneath her horn gay Plenty bends, 

Proud birds record the quarrel, 
And in her temple Fame attends 

To place the well-earned laurel ; 

Yet but in trust he holds this meed, 

For should his aid his country need, 
Then shall he cry — " Draw out the bands," 
When drums, 8cc. 



THE MUFFLED DRUM. 

Mrs. Hemans.] [Music by J. Lodge. 

The muffled drum was heard 

In the Pyrenees by night, 
With a deep and rolling sound, 
Which told the hamlet round 
Of a soldier's burial rite. 

But it told them not how dear 

In a home beyond the main, 
Was the warrior- youth laid low that hour, 

By a mountain-stream of Spain. 
The oaks of England waved 

( >'er the slumbers of his race, 
But a pine of the Ronceval made moan 

Above bis last, lone place ; 

When the muffled drum, &c. 

Brief was the sorrowing there, 

By the stream from battle red, 
And tossing on its waves the plumes 

Of many a stately head ; 
But a mother — soon to die, 

And a sister — long to weep, 
Even then were breathing prayers for him 

In that home' beyond tin- deep; 

W hile the muffled drum, &c. 



118 The New Military Song Booh. 
THE GUARDSMAN'S RETURN. 

j P p 1 [ \j^ ir t u There ivas a brave old 

J' ' J ( mariner." J. P. Knight. 

There was a stern old warrior, 

Kept watch all through the night, 
The foremost of the brave he'd been 

In many a deadly fight ; 
With pride his gallant comrades gazed, 

That veteran to see, 
And deemed, if e'er a hero lived, 
No braver e'er could be. 

Yet deem not if he sighed, 'twas 'cause 

His wounds and many scars, 
Had won for him no meed of fame, 

No honours in the wars ; 
For him no fond heart beat at home, 

No woman's eye grew dim, 
In England's cause, his duty done, 

Was fame enough for him. 

At length the dreadful strife was o'er, 

The proud ship bears away 
The last of that devoted band 

Who bore the battle fray ; 
The soldiers' hearts all leap for joy 

As they for home prepare, — 
The veteran alone is sad, 

For none will meet him there. 

But, hark ! what voices fill the air ! 

The city's crowded Street 
Pours forth its thousand forms, who come 

The warriors back to greet ; 

Before the lonely vet 'ran stands 

A form of noble mien — 
There qvaj a voice to welcome him — 

The voice of England's Queen ! 



The New Military Snug Book. 119 

MOURN FOR THE MIGHTY DEAD. 

C. Mackay.] [Music by Sir H. R. Bishop. 

Mourn for the mighty dead, 
Mourn for the spirit fled, 
Mourn for the lofty head — 

Low in the grave ! 
Tears such as nations weep 
Hallow the hero's sleep ; 
Calm be his rest, and deep, — 

Arthur the brave ! 

Nobly his work was done! 
England's most glorious son — 
True-hearted Wellington, 

Shield of our laws ! 
Ever in peril's sight 
Heaven send such arm of might — 
Guardian of Truth and Right, — 

Raised in their cause. 

Dried be the tears that fall ; 
Love bears the warrior's pall, 
Fame shall his deeds recall — 

Britain's right hand ! 
Bright shall his memory be ! 
Star of supremacy ! 
Banner of victory ! 

Pride of our land ! 



WAVE THE BANNER, WIELD THE 

SWORD ! 
J. Bkl ton.] 14 by Bleu itt. 

Comrades, hark ! the cannons' rattle, 

Startle night and nature lone! 
As shrieking, the red god of battle, 

Leapeth to his crimson throne ! 



120 The New Military Song Book. 

Slip the demons of your slaughter ! 

Havoc deal the hated horde ! 
Fight for home, wife, sister, daughter ! 

Wave the banner, wield the sword ! 

Comrades ! when the hot storm gathers, 

Round shall crowd, in unseen show, 
Shrieking ghosts of murder'd fathers 

Guiding the avenging blow ! 
Death to those who tortures slowly, 

Dealt with fiame, and rack, and cord. 
Onward ! for your cause is holy; 

Wave the banner, wield the sword ! 

Comrades ! ye life's chance who give for 

Native land, your peace and fame! 
If ye win, you've all to live for — 

If ye tall, our tears ye claim ! 
If ye fly, you're cursed in story ! 

Forward, then, with one accord I 
Let your one cry be for glory — 

Wave the banner, wield the sword ! 



THE SOLDIERS OF THE QUEEN. 

I,! i if. Stuart.] [Music by Li.slie Stuart. 

Britons once did loyally declaim 

About the way we ruled the waves— 
K\"ry Briton's son;,; was just the same, 

When singing of our soldier braves. | 
All the world had heard it, wondered why we 

And some have learned the reason why : 
Rut we're forgetting it, and we're letting it 

Fade away and gradually die. 
So when we say that England's master, 

Remember who has made her so-- 



The New Military Song Booh 121 

It's the Soldiers of the Queen, my kids, 
Who've been, my lads— vvho're seen, my 

lads, 
In the fight for England's glory, lads, 
When we've had to show them what we 

mean. 
And when we say we've always won, 
And when they ask us how it's done, 
We'll proudly point to every one 
Of England's Soldiers of the Queen. 

War clouds gather over ev'ry land, 

Our flag is threatened east and west ; 
Nations that we've shaken by the hand 

Our bold resources try to test. 
They thought they found us sleeping — thought 
us unprepared 

Because we have our party wars ; [fight 

But Englishmen unite when they're called to 

The battle for Old England's common cause. 
So when we say that England's master, 

Remember who has made her so — 

It's the Soldiers of the Queen, &c. 

Now we're roused we've buckled on our swords, 

We've done with diplomatic lingo ; 
We'll do deeds to follow on our words, 

We'll show we're something more than 

"jingo." [sons compel 

And though Old England's laws do not her 

To military duties do, 
We'll play them at their game — and show them 
all the same, 
An Englishman can be a soldier too. 
So when we say that England's master, 
Remember who has made her so — 

It's the Soldiers of the Queen, &c. 



122 The New Military Song Bool'. 
THE DEATHLESS ARMY. 

F. E. Weatherly.] [Music by H. Trotere. 

; T\vas golden noon in the city square, 

I heard the drums and the trumpets' blare, 

The gallant troops were must'ring there, 

The flower of our brave old army. 
Stalwart boys and vet'rans old, 
Side by side in their red and gold, 
With a cheer and a smile went rank and file 
In the van of our brave old army. 

Marching for the dear old country, 

Marching away to war, 
With the hearts they love behind them, 
And the flag they love, before. 

'Twas deep still night in the city square, 
Hushed were the drums and the trumpets' blare ; 
But a phantom host was marching there, 

In the steps of the brave old army ! 
Solemnly, silently, through the night, 
Grim set faces and eves so bright, 
As heroes look when they march to fight 

At the head of a mighty army. 

And then I knew, in the still night-tide, 
What men were must'ring side by side, 
They were the men who had fought and died 

In the ranks of our brave old army. 
And their gallant swords may broken lie, 
Their bones may bleach 'ncath an alien sky, 
But their souls, I know, will never die, — 
They march in a deathless army. 

Marching for the dear old country, 

Leading us for evermore, 
For tli" souls of the heroes die not 
In the kind that they adore. 



The New Military Song Book. 123 
PRIVATE TOMMY ATKINS. 

Henry Hamilton.] [Music by S. Potter. 

Oh, we take him from the city, or the plough, 

And we drill him and we dress him up so neat, 
We teach him to uphold his manly brow, 

And how to walk, and where to put his feet ; 
It doesn't matter who he was before, 

Or what his parents fancied for his name, 
Once he's pocketed the shilling-, and a uniform 
he's filling-, 
We call him Tommy Atkins all the same. 
Oh ! Tommy, Tommy Atkins, you're a "good 

'un," heart and hand, 
You're a credit to your calling and to all 

your native land ; 
May your luck be never failing, may your 

love be ever true, 
God bless you, Tommy Atkins, here's your 
country's love to you ! 

In time of peace he hears the bugle call, 

In barracks, from " Revally " to " Lights out "; 
And if " Sentry-go " and " Pipeclay" ever pall, 

There's always plenty more of work about. 
On leave o' nights you meet him in the street, 

As happy as a schoolboy, and as gay ; 
Then back he goes to duty, all for England, 
Home, and Beauty, 

And the noble sum of thirteen pence a day. 
Oh ! Tommy, Tommy Atkins, &c. 

In war-time, then, it's "Tommy to the front," 
And we ship him off in "Troopers" to the 
scene ; 

We sit at home while Tommy bears the brunt, 
A-fighting for his country and his Queen ; 



124 The New Military Sony Book. 

And whether he's on India's coral strand, 
Or pouring out his blood in the Soudan, 

To keep our flag a-flying he's a-doing and a- dying, 
Ev'ry inch of him a soldier and a man. 
Oh ! Tommy, Tommy Atkins, &c. 

So Tommy dear, we'll back you 'gainst the world, 

For fighting, or for funning, or for work, 
Wherever Britain's banner is unfurled, 

To do your best, and never, never shirk. 
We keep the warmest corner in our hearts 

For you, my lad, wherever you may be ; 
By the Union Jack above you ! but we're proud 
of you, and love you ! 

God keep you, Tommy, still by land and sea ! 
( )h ! Tommy, Tommy Atkins, &c. 



THE BRITISH GRENADIERS. 

Anonymous.] [i6th Century. 

Some talk of Alexander, 

And some of Hercules, 
Of Hector and Lysander, 

And such great names as these ; 
But of all the world's brave heroes 

There's none that can compare, 
With a tow row row row row row, 

To the British Grenadier. 

Whene'er we are commanded 
To storm the palisades, 

Our leaders march with fusees, 
And we with hand-grenades ; 

We throw them from the glacis 
About the enemies' ears, 

Sing tow row row row row row, 

The British Grenadiers. 



The New Military Song Bool:. 125 

Then let us fill a bumper, 

And drink a health to those 
Who carry caps and pouches, 

And wear the louped clothes ; 
May they and their commanders 

Live happy all their years, 
With a tow row row row row row, 

For the British Grenadiers. 



THE OLD BRIGADE. 

F. E. Weatherly.] \_Miisk by Odoakdo Barri. 

Where are the boys of the Old Brigade 

Who fought with us side by side? 
Shoulder to shoulder, and blade by blade, 

Fought till they fell and died ! 
Who so ready and undismay'd ? 

Who so merry and true? 
Where are the boys of the Old Brigade? 
Where are the lads we knew ? 

Then steadily, shoulder to shoulder, 

Steadily, blade by blade ! 
Ready and strong, marching along, 

Like the boys of the Old Brigade ! 
Then steadily, shoulder to shoulder, 

Steadily, blade by blade ! 
Ready and strong, marching along, 
Like the boys of the Old Brigade ! 

Over the sea far away they lie, 

Far from the land of their love ; 
Nations alter, the years go by, 

But Heav'n still is Heav'n above. 
Not in the abbey, proudly laid, 

Find they a place or part ; 
The gallant boys of the Old Brigade 

They sleep in old England's heart. 



126 The New Military Song Booh. 

Then steadily, shoulder to shoulder, 

Steadily, blade by blade ! 
Ready and strong, marching along, 

Like the boys of the Old Brigade ! 
Then steadily, shoulder to shoulder, 

Steadily, blade by blade ! 
Ready and strong, marching along, 

Like the boys of the Old Brigade ! 

"WHO CARRIES THE GUN?" 

Arthur Conan Doyle 1 \ u f tc ^ XT 

J ^ Adelaide Nkedham 

" Who carries the gun ? n 

A lad from London town ! 

WVll let him go, for well we know 

The stuff that never backs down ! 

He has learnt to joke at the powder smoke, 

For he is the fog-smoke's son ; 

And his heart is light, and his pluck is right, 

The lad who carries the gun ! 

For the Colonel rides before, 

The Major's on the flank, 

The Captains and the Adjutant 

Are in the foremost rank ; 

But when it's " Line to the front I " 

And there's fighting to be done, 

Come one. come all, you stand or fall 

By the man who holds the gun. 

" Who carries the gun ?" 

A lad from over the Tweed I 

Then let him go, for well we know 

1 le comes of a soldier breed ! 

So drink together to rock and heather, 

Far OUt where the rod deer run. 

And stand aside for Soot land's pride, 

The lad who carries the gun I 

For the Colonel rides before, &c. 



The New Military Song Book. 127 

" Who carries the gun ?" 
A lad from the hills of Wales ! 
Then let him go, for well we know 
That Taffy's as hard as nails ! 
There are several Li's in the place where he 
dwells, 
And of W's more than one, 
With a "Llan" and a "Pen," but it breeds 
good men, 
And it's they who carry the gun ! 

For the Colonel rides before, &c. 

" Who carries the gun?" 

A lad from the Emerald Isle ! 
We'll let him go, for well we know 

We've tried him many a while ! 
We've tried him East, and we've tried him 
West, 

We've tried him on sea and land, 
But the man to beat old Erin's best 

Has never yet been planned ! 

For the Colonel rides before, &c 

" Who*carries the gun?" 

A lad from over the sea ! 
Australian, Canadian, 

All of the same old tree. 
Here's the grip of comradeship, 

Blood-brothers all and one, 
One race, one speech, and a hand to each, 

Who help to carry the gun ! 

For the Colonel rides before, &c. 

"Who carries the gun?" 
It's me, and you, and you ! 
So let us go, and we won't say no, 
If they give us a job to do. 



128 Tlie New Military Sony Book. 

Here we stand with a cross-linked hand, 

Comrades every one ; 
So one last cup, and drink it up, 

To the lad who carries the gun. 

For the Colonel rides before, &c. 



THE GIRL I LEFT BEHIND ME. 

Anonymous.] [i8tii Century. 

I'm lonesome since I crossed the hills, 

And o'er the moorland sedgy, 
Such heaviness my bosom fills, 

Since parting with my Betsy ; 
I seek for one as fair and gay, 

But find none to remind me 
How blest the hours pass'd away 

With the girl I left behind me. 

The hour I remember well 

When first she owned she loved me ; 
A pain within my breast doth tell 

How constant I have proved me. 
But now Fm bound for Brighton camp, 

Kind Heaven then pray guide me, 
And send me home, safe back again, 

To the girl I left behind me. 

My mind her image must retain, 

Asleep or sadly waking ; 
I long to see my love again, 

For her my h< art is breaking. 
Whene'er my steps return that way, 

Still faithful shall she find me, 
And nevermore again 1 11 stray 

From the girl I've left behind me. 



The New Military Song Book. 129 

ONCE A SOLDIER, ALWAYS A 
SOLDIER. 

W. T. Lytton.] [Music by Denham Harrison. 

When his soldier days have come and gone, 

And the din of war is over ; 
When the red coat he has ceased to don, 

And no longer he's a rover ; 
When to comrades he must say " Good-bye," 

Hearts are full and moist is every eye. 
Leave them ? no, he can't without a sigh, 

Though the life's not been all clover ; 
Locks may be grey, and changed the scene, 
Tommy remains what he has been. 
Once a soldier always a soldier, 

Tommy can never change ; 
True to his colours, true to his corps, 

True to his Queen till his life be o'er. 
At the sound of the bugle, the beat of the 
drum, 
His old heart begins to thrill 
With a kind of a something words can't 
express, 
That proves him a soldier still. 

Oft he'll wander by the barrack square, 

\\ here he sees the lads a-drilling, 
And the vision comes back then and there, 

When he took the nimble shilling. 
There he'll stand as in the days gone by, 

Head erect, full chest, and flashing eye. 
See him as the Colonel's riding by, 

Every vein with pleasure thrilling ; 
Locks may be grey, and changed the scene, 

Tommy remains what he has been 
Once a soldier, &c 



130 The New Military Song Booh. 



THE UNION JACK. 

Horace Lennard.] [Music by Paul Terrion. 

There were three men sailed out to sea 

On a peaceful summer morn : 
They were Pat Maguire, and Sandy Mackee, 

And the third John Barleycorn. 
They sailed, and sailed, but couldn't agree, 

Who should cook, or who should steer, 
And which of the three the skipper should be — 
Till a big storm-cloud drew near, 
Then cried they all — 
"Join hand in hand ! 
Divided we fall, 
United we stand ! 

Shoulder to shoulder, back to back, 
In trouble we stand 
, By the Union Jack, 
In trouble we stand 
By the Union Jack !" 

Pat, Sandy, and John sailed far away, 

And searched for a foe to fight ; 
They talked and they argued all the day, 

And they wrangled .'ill the night : 
How to shoot each showed a different way, 

And only that way was right ; 
And the wordy fray the three wouldn't stay 

Till the enemy hove in sight, 

Then cried they all, &C. 

Pat, Sandy, and John sailed back to shore, 
When the fight was fought and won ; 

And the three now argued more and more 
As to who the most had done. 



The New Military Song Book. 131 

And so it will be as "parties" increase, 

With Sandy, and Pat, and John : 
In the time of peace their jabber won't cease, 
But wait till a war comes on, 

Then hear them cry, 

"Come, boys, fall in, — 

Divided we die, 

United we win ! 

Shoulder to shoulder, back to back, 

In trouble we stand 

By the Union Jack, 

In trouble we stand 

By the Union Jack ! " 



TO THE FRONT! 

F. E. WeaThzrlt.] [Mi/sic by Stephen Adams. 

" Now tell me where you're goin', lad," 
She whispered soft and low ; 
" I've been watchin' at the Barracks, 
For I heard the bugles blow." 
" Oh ! we've just received our orders, 
So, darlin', I must go ; [morninV 

For we're marchin' to the front in the 
March in', marchin', marchin' to the front, 
The nation gets the glory, but the soldier bears 
Then kiss me, dear, and go, [the brunt ; 

For you know I love you so, 
An' we're marchin' to the front in the mornin'. 

" Hut when the war is over, 
An' all the fightin's through, 
( >h ! then I'll pack my haversack, 
And travel back to you ; 
And, my darlin', you'll be waitin', 
For I know that you arc true, [mornin'." 
An' we're marchin' to the front in the 
Marchin', marchin', &c. 



132 The New Military Song Bool: 

" But, if you're killed," she whispered, 
" What, then, am I to do ? — 
For you're all I love an' cherish, 
An' I've given my heart to you ! " 
" Pray God that I come back, lass ; 
Ne'er fear but I'll be true, 
An' we're marchin' to the front in the 
mornin'." 

Marchin', marchin', &c. 



GOD SAVE THE QUEEN. 

God save our gracious Queen, 
Long live our noble Queen, 

God save the Queen ! 
Send her victorious, 
Happy and glorious, 
Long to reign over us : 

God save the Queen ! 

O Lord our God, arise, 
Scatter her enemies, 

And make them fall : 
Confound their politics, 
Frustrate their knavish tricks ; 
On her our hopes we fix, 

God save us all ! 

Thy choicest gifts in store 
On her be pleased to pour 

Long may she rei^n ! 
May she defend our laws. 
And ever give us cause 
To sing with heart and voice, 

God save the (hieen ! 



INDEX OF FIRST LINES. 



A British soldier is my dad . 

A soldier, a soldier, a soldier for me 

At midnight's dreary hour is heard 

RE the morning sun is beaming 
Bill Steadfast was a soldier true 
Bowld General Hoolf to his men did say 
Britons once did loyally declaim . 
Brother soldier, hand in hand 
Brother soldiers, drink about 



( in i.r, boys, cheer, no more of idle sorrow 
Come all ye gem'men volunteers . 
Come fill, fill the goblet, and then let us giv< 
Come if you dare ! the trumpets sound 
Come, let our silver bugles ring 
Courage— courage, hearts of England 
Courage ! nothing can withstand . 
Comrades, hark ! the cannons rattle 

DElLtak' the wars that hurried Billy from me 
Deserted by the waning moon 
Does haughty Gaul invasion threat ? 
Draw the sword, Scotland 

Firm as England's coast 

Friend of the brave ! in peril's darkest hour 

From Minden's plain of glory 

Go, my own darling boy 
God save our Gracious Queen 



PAGE 

97 
82 

67 



106 
120 

59 
89 

35 
36 



76 
86 

3 2 
119 

23 
11 

81 
57 

112 

5 
107 

100 
132 



134 



Index of First Lines 



Half a league, half a league 

Hark ! to the shrill trumpet calling 

Hark ! I hear the foe advancing . 

He comes from the wars 

He who wears a regimental suit 

His child has fled, and his old heart grieve 

Hoist high the flag ngain 

If I had a beau 

I gave my soldier boy a blade 

I'm a merry little soldier 

I'm going for a soldier, Jenny 

I'm lonesome since I crossed the hills . 

I'm Paddy Whack of Ballybrack . 

In bygone days, what thoughts they raise 

It was a Sabbath morn .... 

I've health and I've spirits too 



Let our banner still float o'er the white-crested sea 
Let sailors and soldiers unite in this cause 



Madam, you know my trade is war 

Might I march through life again . 

Mother, is the battle over? .... 

Mother, can this the glory be? 

Mourn for the mighty dead .... 

My father's sword upon the wall . 

My grandsire beat a drum so neat 

My love was born in Aberdeen 

My sword, my friend, my noble friend . 

No stone marks the spot .... 

Not a drum was heard, not a funeral note 

Now Seotia her heroes that bathe in her fountains 

Now tell me where you're going, lad? . 

( >, i.i .vs. have you heard "i the battle? . 

( ) ! let me like a soldier fall .... 

Of all the gay dashing young fellows 

( )h ! dear as you are, tell me not of a h< >me . 
( >h, do you remember the old soldier's daughter? 
( »li, | ive me but my Arab steed 

.'• me the tented field .... 
Oh, there's not a trade that's going 



Index of First Lines 135 



Oh, the volunteers of England 

Oh, weep not that I leave the shore 

Oh, we take him from the city or the plough 

On Linden, when the sun was low 

Ope the window, let in the air 

Our bugles sang truce 

Our country's standard floats above 

Peace to the mighty soul, the fearless breast 
Peace to the chief ! may angels bless 
Pibroch of Donuil Dim ..... 
Poor Joe the Marine was at Portsmouth well known 



Rouse, ye lovers of peace and of order . 

Sam Steel is my name, and a man of some fame 

Scots wha hae wi' Wallace bled 

See the conquering hero comes 

See the ribbons gaily streaming 

Shades of Britannia's sons who sleep 

Sing, all ye bards, in loud acclaim 

So they say the French are coming 

Soldiers, comrades, I've oft to victory led 

Some talk of Alexander ..... 

Sound the alarm ! the foe is come 

Stand by the flag ! let nothing daunt 

Strike up, Scottish minstrels so gay 

The battle is fought, and the weapons are sheathed 

The Lion of Britain, the Eagle of France 

The martial pomp, the mournful train . 

The minstrel boy to the war is gone 

The muffled drum was heard 

The song of war shall echo through our mountains 

The soldier who to battle goes 

The sound of the drum calls the soldier to arms 

The tired soldier, bold and brave . 

The trump of war is sounding, love 

The trumpet may summon thy soldier away . 

The trumpets are sounding, the banners are spread 

The war that for a space did fail . 

There is a sound of thunder afar . 

There was a stern old warrior 

There were three men sailed out to se 



136 



Index of First Lines 



1 AGS 

There's a barrel I have in a corner so snug . . 83 
This, this, my lad, 's a soldier's life . . 27 

Though forward stands the soldier's name . . 116 
Though nought remain, we'll wear no chain . . 105 
Time was when France and Britain vied . .111 
'Twas a good and gallant show .... 50 
'Twas golden noon in the city square . . .122 
'Twas in the evening of a winter day ... 93 
'Twas the day of the feast in the chieftain's hall . 26 
'Twas twice three. hundred noble ships ... 61 
'Twas when the fight was at the height . . 69 

Upon the hill he turned ..... 13 
Upon the plains of Flanders 7 

Watch o'er and guide her way .... 41 

We are marching to the light, love . . 51 

We soldiers drink, we soldiers sing . . . 1 

Weep not for the fallen brave .... 72 

What shall the soldier's watchword be ? . . 25 

What will they say in England? .... 2 

Whate'er my fate, where'er I roam ... 3 
When his soldier days have come and gone . .129 

When nature with wild flowers .... 77 

When once the din of war's begun ... 44 

When war's alarms enticed my Willie from me . 51 

When wild war's deadly blast was blawn . . 95 

Where are the boys of the Old Brigade? . . 125 

While love absorbs my ardent soul . . 13 

Who carries the gun? 126 

Wide o'er Hannoek's heathery wold . . • ^5 

With a helmet on his brow |6 

Younq Henry was as brave a youth ... 5 



1 : : 1 r.v MORRISON AND 



UMI 1 ED. EDINBURGH